


Unraveled

by flagbearer_or_scouts



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe, Detective AU, F/F, Gen, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2018-08-22 11:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 85,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8283644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flagbearer_or_scouts/pseuds/flagbearer_or_scouts
Summary: Detective AU: Detective Yang Xiao Long's methods may be…unconventional. But everyone knows that she's the best in the business. That is, until a criminal known as Black comes across her case load. Be careful when you pull on a string. Unless you're ready for everything to come unraveled. On Hiatus.





	1. Chapter 1

**Title: Unraveled, Chapter 1**

**Author’s Note: I was sitting, waiting for my first class to start when this idea randomly popped into my head. Hang on tight. Let’s see where this ride takes us.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any content affiliated with _RWBY_. **

**…**

“Long! Chief wants to see you.”

The shout across the bullpen from the deputy chief causes a head of blonde hair to perk up over the top of the cubicle. The yell causes a few bloodshot, over-caffeinated eyes flicker between the door to the chief’s office—left slightly ajar—and the youngest of the detectives on the force, her desk a visual disaster of half-read files, empty coffee cups, and assorted post-it notes. Yang Xiao Long stands up, cocking an eyebrow in the general direction of the voice.

Less than a second later, everyone in the bullpen has turned their glazed attention back to the computer screens in front of them. Everyone, that is, except for Officer Weiss Schnee, whose cubicle shares a wall with Yang’s. The two of them have tag-teamed in more than one case together. Which means that Weiss knows all about Yang’s…unconventional methods of investigation. And how much trouble she often gets into.

“ _What did you do?”_ Weiss hisses in a low voice.

Yang just sends her a smile and a wink, taking a moment to stretch her stiff joints from having been sitting for so long. She glances out the window, almost disappointed to see it sunny and bright while she was stuck inside the pale cream walls of the precinct, typing up the finishing touches on a document and reading over the pile of case files the intern had left on her desk before she came in this morning.

She rolls her shoulders, reaches her arms above her head to do a half-moon stretch, adjusts her orange scarf, and then walks between the dark blue cubicles to the chief’s office. She knocks before walking in.

“Sir?” Yang asks.

Chief Ozpin looks up from his desk, which is almost the polar opposite of Yang’s. It’s neat and organized, with everything in place, the files stacked neatly on the corner save for the one Ozpin has open in front of him. He looks up at the detective in front of him and nods at the door, and she closes it as he shuts the manila folder.

“Detective Xiao Long.” Ozpin adjusts the glasses on the bridge of his nose, but looks over the top of them at Yang. “How’d that robbery case go?”

Yang blinks. “Uh, fine, sir.” She shifts her weight, standing up a little straighter as if preparing to defend herself. “Robbery at Dust Jewelry. A criminal known on the streets as Cardin Winchester was apprehended and arrested. He is currently awaiting trial. Pretty open-and-shut.”

Ozpin lifts the file he had been reading before tossing it back on the desk. “So your report says.” There’s a long pause, and just as Yang takes a breath to speak up, Ozpin cuts her off. “It’s good work.”

“I didn’t—what?”

The corner of the chief’s lips curl upwards in a brief, faint smile. “The work you did on this case, Detective, is good.  Your methods of getting information are a bit…unorthodox,” Ozpin concedes, “but you creativity is...inspiring.”

Yang grins, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet with a surge of confidence. “Thanks, chief.”

“Just be careful, Ms. Xiao Long,” Ozpin warns, and Yang’s smile falters. “Not everyone will appreciate the way you do detective work, and I won’t be able to protect you.” The insinuation makes Yang’s shoulders tense, but the chief holds up a hand before she can speak. “I know you are more than capable. But some of our best people have gotten burned because they got reckless. You’re the youngest detective we have. Tread carefully.”

Yang shrugs off the warning. “I will, sir,” she says dismissively.

Ozpin gives a small nod to the door. “That is all. Rest up this weekend.”

Yang swings the door open and sends a grin over her shoulder. “When have you ever known me to rest, chief?”

…

            When Yang leaves the precinct at 6:02 PM, she makes sure to slide the pile of potential cases that had been left on her desk into her bag, promising herself that she’ll look over them tonight. Or more accurately, she’ll probably skim them while watching a movie with her little sister, Ruby, who was visiting for a few weeks.

            “ _So_ ,” Weiss says as she walks out of the bullpen to the elevator with the blonde detective. “Are you going to tell me?”

            Yang chuckles. “Tell you what?”

            “What Ozpin said this morning.” The elevator dings and the silver, reflective doors slide open slowly. The girls step inside, and Weiss nudges the button labeled “G”. “Did he ream you for the way you handled that witness in the Cardin case?”

            Yang resists the urge to roll her eyes, and settles for shaking her head. “Nah. Nothing like that.”

            “You’re lucky, then,” Weiss scoffs. “Nobody else in this precinct would have gotten away with something like that.”

            “Hey, thanks for your help with that case, by the way,” Yang says suddenly, changing the topic. “Looks like your gut instinct was right.”

            Weiss straightens a little with pride. “It usually is.”

            The two of them walk through the lobby, waving to Scarlet-the-Secretary, and push through the tall glass doors and into the brisk October air. Yang tucks her brown blazer a little closer to her, bracing slightly against the bite of the wind.

Weiss seems unfazed by the sudden drop in temperature, holding a hand up in the air to hail a cab. It takes less than a minute before one pulls up. “I’ll see you on Monday, Yang.”

Yang says farewell and then heads off in the opposite direction as the cab pulls back onto the street. She takes in a deep breath, adjusts the strap of her bag on her shoulder, and heads down the street to the bus stop. Her ride is roughly half an hour on a light traffic day—which Fridays never are—so she grabs a seat in the back and digs the file folders out of her bag.

_Petty theft._

_Public intoxication._

_Vandalism._

_Disturbance of peace._

Yang sighs as she reads them, finding all of them boring and uninteresting. She shifts against the cracking leather seat, and glances out the window. The sky is beginning to turn red and pink, the sun setting somewhere behind the skyline of Vale. The bus smells faintly of rusting metal and urine, but she is used to it. She’s been riding Vale public transportation ever since she moved to the city four years ago.

She glances at her watch. 6:32 PM. She figures she has roughly ten minutes until her stop. Enough time to read through one more file. She pulls another one out, surprised to find it heavier and thicker than the last eight she skimmed. She flips it open.

The date reads nearly a year ago. _Supposed breaking and entering, but no evidence of either… Millions of dollars in art and jewels missing… Suspect known colloquially as Black…. No further evidence… no eye-witnesses._

Yang’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise as she shuffles through hundreds of reports, all near carbon-copies of one another. The dates get more recent with each report, with the last one being two days ago. Yang recalls distantly that she had heard Black’s name tossed around with some of the more experienced detectives in recent weeks, but none of them had been able to get anywhere. No evidence, no eye-witnesses, no sign of entry. The cases went cold almost as soon as they opened.

Whoever this “Black” character was, they were meticulous. More than that, they were _good_. Yang wonders briefly how such a high-profile case had landed in her pile, but she wasn’t going to complain.

As the bus comes to a stop, Detective Yang Xiao Long smiles to herself. Black may be good, but so was she. And Yang always had reveled in a good challenge.

…

**A/N: Please let me know what you think! I love any kind of feedback. ^u^**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Word Count: 1652**

**Author’s note: Sorry for the wait. Please, please, please let me know what you guys think? Feedback is everything and more. Love you guys! Also: special shout-out to Masterpick, who helped tremendously with this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any content affiliated with _RWBY_.**

…

When Yang walks into the bullpen the following Monday morning, she marches straight into Chief Ozpin’s office, too excited to remember to knock. Ozpin gives her an unimpressed stare from over the top of his glasses as he holds up a finger, his other hand holding the scroll in front of him. A voice that Yang doesn’t recognize is saying something, but before the detective thinks to listen, Ozpin interrupts him.

“Let me call you back.” Yang is pretty sure whoever is on the other line protests, but Ozpin ignores it and ends the call anyway. “Detective. I believe it is customary to knock before entering a room with a closed door.” The chastise is light, but Yang notices the way Ozpin’s shoulders are slightly slumped, and the dark circles under his eyes that aren’t masked by his small glasses frame.

“Tired, chief?” Yang asks, ignoring his comment, with genuine concern coloring her otherwise teasing tone. In the few years that Yang had worked with the chief, she can’t remember any time when Ozpin looked tired.

In the same way that Yang ignored him, the chief waves off her question. “How can I help you, Ms. Xiao Long?”

Yang blinks as if suddenly remembering why she came into the office in the first place. “I looked over those case files.” She digs through the bag slung across her shoulder before digging out Black’s folder. She tosses it onto his desk in front of him. “I wanna go after Black.”

Ozpin leans back in his chair, regarding the blonde quietly. Yang holds his gaze almost defiantly. The chief folds his hands together with his elbows on the arms of his chair as a small smile tugs at his lips. Behind him, the large window is splattered with raindrops. But even the morning overcast sky wasn’t enough to dampen Yang’s excitement.

Ozpin smiles after a long moment. “I thought you might.”

“Wait…” Yang’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You’re the one who slipped it into my pile?”

“I may have pulled a few strings.” Ozpin picks up tan folder and holds it out towards the detective. “See what you can do.”

Yang gives a mock-salute before turning on her heels and walking back to her desk. She sits down at the desk, propping her feet up on the edge of it and leaning back in her brown rolling desk chair. She crosses her ankles, propping the file folder open in her lap before flipping it open. She forgoes the reports, instead looking at the pictures of the various crime scenes as if she hadn’t spent all weekend studying Black’s file.

Yang’s attention is broken a few minutes later at the sound of someone clearing their throat. When she looks up, Weiss is leaning against the entrance to Yang’ cubicle. “Good morning,” Weiss says, looking amused.

“Morning,” Yang says absently, her gaze floating back towards the file before flickering back to Weiss.

“Find a case?”

Yang leans back a little more and folds her hands behind her head. “Are you familiar with the thief known as Black?”

Weiss’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Are you kidding? Everybody knows about Black.” She eyes the folder in Yang’s lap. “Ozpin’s gonna let you take that case?”

 Yang shrugs. If she’s being honest, she’s just as surprised as Weiss is. “He’s the one who put it in my pile.” Yang holds the file out to Weiss. “Here. Take a look. Whoever this Black character is, they’re virtually untouchable.”

Weiss skims through the files, studying the reports and pictures for a moment before frowning and handing it back to Yang. “Well, you’ve got me.”

Yang nods absentmindedly, then kicks her legs off the desk and stands up. “I think it’s time for a coffee break.”

Weiss looks at her skeptically. “You just got in.”

Yang shrugs and grabs her bag again. “I think I might stop by the park. I hear the evergreens are beautiful this time of year.” She gives Weiss a brief, pointed look.

Realization dawns in Weiss’s expression, but she rolls her eyes at Yang’s not-so-subtlety. “Tell them I said hi.”

Yang smiles and claps Weiss on the shoulder as she passes her. “You bet.”

…

Almost an hour later, Yang steps out of light rain and into a comparatively dimly lit apartment building. The wallpaper—made to look like the small lobby is made of wood—is peeling on the edges. The carpet is a color that Yang thinks was, at one point, red, but it’s so faded and dirty that it’s honestly hard to tell. Yang slides her sunglasses up through her wet hair to sit on the top of her head as she makes her way to the stairwell and climbs the four flights of stairs.

When she gets to the room at the end of the hall, she gives a brief, rhythmic knock and waits. It’s only a few seconds before Yang hears a high, bubbly female voice shout excitedly from the other side. “It’s Yang!”

The thin wooden door swings open to reveal a short head of ginger hair. Yang is pulled into the room as the door closes behind her. Yang laughs. “It’s good to see you too, Nora.”

The room is neat and organized—relatively unusual for the group—and the other three people look up as the door closes. A girl with deep red hair waves, looking up from the heavy, leather-bound book in her lap. “Hello, again.”

Yang waves back. “Hey, Pyrrha.”

A boy, with a distinct pink stripe in his dark hair, looks up from where he sits on the worn, brown sofa tucked away in the corner. He stops typing at the laptop in his lap long enough to nod a greeting and offer a small smile. _Lie Ren_.

The other boy, shaggy blonde hair nearly falling into his eyes, jumps up from being stretched out on the bed. “What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

Nora bounces over to the sofa, taking a seat next to Ren. “Yeah, Yang. Not that we don’t love the company.”

Yang sits on the edge of the unoccupied bed, the floral bedspread clashing horribly with the peeling paint and the God-awful not-red carpet. “I wanted to thank you guys for that intel you got me on the Cardin case. I’m not sure how it would have gone down without it.”

“We were happy to help,” Pyrrha says.

“Yeah,” Jaune adds. “Cardin needed to be stopped. Any time you need help on a case, it’s what we’re here for.”

Yang chuckles and leans forward, propping her elbows on her knees. “That’s why I’m here.”

Nora looks up from Ren’s computer and tilts her head. “You have another case already? That was fast.”

“What do you need from us?” Jaune asks, his voice expectant and ready. The room lapses into an anticipatory silence. Yang can feel the gazes trained on her as she pulls the file out of her folder.

“I need information,” she says with a sigh. “On someone known as Black.”

Ren’s eyebrows shoot up, looking at her over the top of his laptop. “You’re going after Black?”

“Yeah,” Yang replies, her gaze narrowing in confusion. “You’re familiar with them?” It’s only when the detective glances around the room that she realizes Ren isn’t the only one who recognizes the name. All four of JNPR are staring at her.

“We all are,” Nora eventually speaks up. “They’re all anyone on the street wants to talk about.”

Yang feels her heartbeat quicken slightly, sitting up a bit more. “What do you guys know?”

“Not much,” Nora says, her voice faintly apologetic.

“At least,” Jaune adds, “nothing that file won’t tell you. We know Black is a thief. Legendary on the streets, but nobody’s really seen them. Just… movement. Shadows.”

Yang frowns. “Somebody had to have seen them…”

“She.” Pyrrha’s correction comes softly but still strongly. “When I first heard about Black, I did a bit of research.” Pyrrha pauses, glancing at the window. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still overcast. Pyrrha’s voice softens even more. “She might be associated with the White Fang. But nobody’s been able to verify that.”

Yang feels the hairs on her arms raise at just the mention of the group. _White Fang?_ Yang knows about them; the underground crime organization whose actions recently have bordered on terrorism. If a crime existed, odds are that White Fang had been rumored to be associated with it at one point or another. Yang’s stomach twists in knots with sudden uncertainty.

Ren’s quiet voice breaks into her thoughts, his eyes staying trained on the computer screen. “She’s mostly a ghost. There’s not much information. But I may have found your next victim.”

Yang shakes her head as if to clear it, then stands up and crosses the room to sit on the arm of the couch on the other side of him. “Hit me with it.”

“A young woman by the name of Coco Adel. Her condo is on the other side of town.” A small, faint smirk tugs at the corner of Ren’s lips at Yang’s look of surprise. “I can’t give you any absolute guarantee, but she fits Black’s victim profile. And it appears that she’ll be gone to Atlas in a couple of days.” Ren offers a modest shrug. “If I were Black, I’d take advantage of the situation.”

Yang stares at him, blinking. “How’d you find that out so quickly?”

“I have my ways.”

Jaune jumps in, smiling. “We’re JNPR. And we’ve been your contacts for over two years, Yang.”

“It’s what we do,” Pyrrha adds with a small smile.

  **...**

**A/N: Any and all feedback would mean the absolute world.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Chapter Three, here we are. To everyone who has followed, kudos’d/favorited, and especially commented… I love you guys. I wouldn’t be the writer I am without you. Also, shout out to Masterpick, for all of his help in this process (go check out his fics if you haven’t yet!) Longer chapter this time. Hope you guys don't mind.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any content affiliated with RWBY.**

**…**

Later that afternoon, the previously gray sky has cleared. A few clouds remain, but the Vale skyline is largely offset by a bright blue sky. The streets fill with the shouts of vendors, the distant conversations between associates and friends, and the general ambience of midday traffic. The only sign of the morning rain had occurred at all was the puddles draining into the sewers along the street, and that the asphalt was a slightly darker color than usual.

The blonde detective throws out a hand as a cab approaches, smiling with a mix of triumph and gratitude. She climbs into the backseat, tells the driver the address Ren had rattled off to her earlier in the day, and leans back in the squeaky leather seat as she watches the buildings pass slowly.

“Should be about twenty minutes,” the cab driver tells her. Yang nods and thanks him.

She smiles as she watches the busy city life pass by on the streets of Vale. A little girl runs ahead and jumps in the puddles, shrieking with laughter. Ruby used to do that all the time, largely following Yang’s example. Usually, their dad would pull them back with chastisement in his voice but a proud, faintly nostalgic glint in his eyes. They’d go to the ice cream shop around the corner from the bank, the two girls working on building their sugar high while their dad took care of some errands.

Trips to Vale were rare when she was young. Yang hadn’t grown up downtown—they’d grown up in this small, middle-of-nowhere area known as Patch—but something about big cities had always enticed Yang. Something was always happening. The perpetual motion of city life had excited and energized Yang even when she’d been small, splashing with Ruby in the street puddles.

“We’re here.”

The cab pulls up in front of a tall, reflective building. The name _Oum Condominiums_ scrawled halfway up in elegant, gold script. The building was notorious for being home to the rich and powerful of the city, or really anybody who had the money. Yang pulls out cash from her wallet, thanking the driver again as she hands it to him. She slides out and closes the door behind her, looking up at the building one more time before going inside.

Yang already has her police badge out by the time she reaches the ornate front desk. The young woman behind it straightens in surprise, her eyes glancing at the badge before flickering up to Yang. The detective flashes the girl a smile, leaning up against the desk. “Detective Xiao Long. I was wondering if you might be able to help me.”

The girl looks faintly flustered as she stammers, “Y-yeah. Absolutely. What can I do for you, detective?”

“I need to talk to a Coco Adel.”

A voice speaks up from behind Yang. “That’s me.”

Yang turns around to see a young woman, short brown hair tucked under a beret save for part that falls to the side of her face and fades into a bright red and orange tip. Her black and brown outfit is chic and stylish in such a way that underscores her evident wealth without flaunting it. Coco pulls her dark sunglasses off and folds them, her dark eyes looking up expectantly at the detective.

“Ms. Adel?” Yang asks, flashing the badge that was in her hands. “Do you have a minute?”

Coco stares at the badge for a moment, then nods, pulling her rolling briefcase behind her. “Yeah.”

Yang glances briefly around the lobby, noting the increased glances she’s receiving from those who noticed her badge. She wonders briefly if Black is watching them too. “Could we go somewhere to speak privately?”

She looks at Yang with something between surprise and suspicion, but nods. “Sure. Follow me.”

…

“Are you serious?”

The question makes Yang sigh but smile sympathetically. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

Coco leans into the plush leather couch, one arms slung across the back. The condo is large, but doesn’t feel empty. Three of the four walls in the living area were an off white, with the fourth being a gold yellow. Sunlight filters in through the large windows. Yang was sitting on the opposite side of the flat coffee table from Coco. She waits, letting the information sink in for a moment.

Coco shakes her head after a moment and a small smile tugs at her lips. “Alright. So a high profile, never-seen thief wants to rob me. What’s your plan?”

The question surprises Yang, but only briefly. “Black doesn’t know that we know she’s coming here next. I want to take advantage of the upper-hand while we have it.”

“I could cancel my Atlas trip.”

“No,” Yang jumps in. Coco arches an eyebrow at the suddenness before the detective explains, “Look, Ms. Adel—“

“Coco,” she corrects.

“Coco,” Yang repeats, “Black has to be keeping her eye on you. She already knows that you’re planning on leaving tomorrow for a trip that will last three days. If you cancel, she’ll know. And she’ll probably know that we’re onto her. We have leverage on her right now, and I don’t want to lose that.”

The brunette picks up the white coffee cup off the table between them and takes a sip. “So I leave, and you…what? Stake my condo out?” The question comes without malice.

Yang nods. “That’s the idea.” The detective leans forward, her elbows propped on her knees. “We’re gonna catch her, Coco.”

The girl smiles, tipping the coffee cup to Yang as if in a toast. “I like you.”

…

The next 30 hours is a whirlwind for Yang. It’s consisted mostly of meetings with Ozpin and the other detectives, briefings on who will be where and when for the upcoming stakeout, reviewing protocols. Yang doesn’t get much say in who is assigned to her team, the decision largely being left up to Ozpin’s discretion. The detective is grateful that he assigns her officers that are known for producing good work, and a few detectives who have worked on the Black case in the past.

She could do without the condescending looks she receives from those detectives, but she mostly ignores them. They had their chance to catch Black. This was hers, and she’d drummed up more of a lead than any detective had in months. Yang kept JNPR’s help silent, managing to side-step any questions, the most common one being: _Where exactly did you get this intel, Long?_

The team forms a plan, assigning stations, rotations, lines of communication, chain of command… Yang takes the reigns, calling out orders and drawing up plans. She talks over the details with Weiss, who isn’t assigned to the stakeout but has always been more detail-oriented than Yang. The blonde promises to buy her a meal once this whole ordeal is over.

30 hours later, Yang is waiting in the back of a surveillance van fielding reports from officers stationed at other locations both outside and inside the condominium building. The reports continue to come up empty. She can feel the nervous energy increasing as the hours tick by. One of the senior detectives leans back in the chair and shoots Yang a skeptical glance.

“You sure this intel was good, Long?”

“It’s good,” Yang replies firmly if a bit defensively. The detective holds his hands up in mock-surrender, shaking his head and turning his gaze back to video footage. “Black _will_ show,” Yang says, but softer, and mostly to herself.

More hours tick by. Yang bounces on the balls of her feet, pacing up and down the small, cramped van. Yang glances at her scroll for the time. _10:19_ _PM_. The blonde yawns and shakes her head to clear it. She hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. Three hours, max? Yang wasn’t sure. Her thoughts about the case keeping her awake until ungodly hours in the morning before sheer exhaustion took over.

“ _Xiao Long.”_ An officer’s voice cuts into her thoughts through the earpiece she’s wearing. Yang practically jumps up from her seat.

“Go for Long. What’s your status?”

“ _We got a motion sensor trip from the room. Nothing on the video feed, though.”_

She frowns, glancing at the other officers in the van. “Our cameras cover just about every inch of that condo.”

“ _I’m just reporting what our sensors have picked up, ma’am.”_

The other detective stumbles out of his seat. “If the sensors went off, then get in there! I want eyes on Black.”

Yang whirls around. “What? No! Stand down. If Black gets spooked, then it’s all over. Don’t move. I’m gonna check the exterior out.”

“So help me, Xiao Long, I need eyes in that condo.” There’s a thinly veiled threat in the way he glares at her, as if trying to remind Yang that she is significantly younger and less experienced than him.

Yang grabs her brown jacket and heads for the door of the van, brushing off his glare. “This is my case, Detective,” Yang shoots back. “Everyone stay put.” She ignores the cries of protest from the other detective, closing the door behind her. Yang looks up at the building across the street, making sure no cars are coming before she jogs across it.

The _Oum Condominiums_ sign is lit up with gold lights, but Yang circles around to the alleyway, dimly lit by one streetlight several yards away. She squints up in the dark, scanning the side of the building for any sign of forced entry. She makes her way around to the back. “C’mon, Black,” Yang mutters to herself. “You had to have gotten in some way.”

Yang curses under her breath when her scroll vibrates in her pocket. She keeps scanning the building—and the fire-escape in alley on the other side of it—as she answers.

“Long,” Yang says.

“Yang.” It’s Weiss. “Where are you?”

“Weiss?” Yang frowns. Weiss knows what Yang is doing. She, and most the rest of the department, had been briefed on the attempt tonight to catch Black. “What’s going on?”

Weiss says something but Yang doesn’t catch it. There’s a sudden gust of wind that ruffles her hair and with it, a distant thud. A second later, the sound of a window slamming shut. The detective goes still, her gaze still trained on the building.

Yang holds her breath.

She looks.

She waits.

 _There_. There’s a quick movement in the corner of her eyes. The soft whisper of shoes against the wet asphalt. Yang breaks into a run but only manages a few steps before Weiss’s insistent voice cuts through the air.

“…Ruby.”

Yang stops cold at the mention of her sister. “ _What?_ ”

“Ruby was just taken in for questioning.” Yang’s brow furrows, concern knotting in her stomach. It wasn’t really like her sister to get into trouble.  “Don’t be mad at her,” Weiss continues after a brief silence. “She actually was stopping a guy with a gun at the convenience store.”

Yang releases a bit of a breath. _That_ sounded like Ruby. “Is she hurt?”

The detective knows that she’s lost her chance to chase after Black. Whoever Black is, Yang knows that she’s long gone. But she walks into the alley anyway and stares up at the fire escape.

“Her aura is a little depleted,” Weiss answers. “But she’s okay.”

That’s when Yang sees it. “I’ll be right there.” She hangs up her scroll and climbs the fire escape. She’d seen something moving with the wind, snagged on the railing, catching the bright moonlight.

_A hair bow?_

Yang examines it before shoving it into her pocket and rushing back to the precinct.

…

**A/N: I so, so hope you guys liked this installment! Let me know what you thought! Feedback is everything and more.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Okay, so I’m super- _duper_ sorry that this took so long. English major over here, *waves* and unfortunately that means I sometimes get swamped with papers and reading that make it hard to find time and brain power to write. Thank you so, so much for your patience. You guys are amazing. **

…

When she gets back to the precinct, Yang heads straight for the conference room. Ruby hadn’t been arrested, according to Weiss, just brought in for questioning. Protocol meant they’d be in the conference room. When she opens the door, two officers and her sister look up at her.

“Hi, Yang,” Ruby says, a bit sheepishly. Her hands are folded around a Styrofoam coffee cup, and her short, dark hair is falling slightly into her eyes.

Yang feels a bit of the tension ease out of her shoulders at seeing her sister. “Ruby,” she sighs, faint relief coloring her voice. She looks at her sister a long moment, making sure she’s okay, before she turns her attention to the other two men in the room. “Officer Wukong. Officer Vasilias.” Sun and Neptune. Yang had always liked them. They were some of the few people left on the force that didn’t take themselves too seriously. And after the night had been going, they were a pair of welcome faces.

Both of them offer relaxed, pleasant smiles. “Detective,” they say, practically in unison.

“We were just telling Ruby she should think about joining the force,” Sun explains, his navy blue tie pulled loose around his neck and the sleeves of his button down shirt were rolled to the elbows.

Yang smiles with a faint sense of pride as Neptune adds, “Yeah. She was on the scene before we were. We saw the end of the fight, though.”

“I mean, formally, we have to chastise you,” Sun cuts in, sounding more disappointed that he’s supposed to reprimand her than actually mad at her. Ruby smiles faintly as he continues. “So… you should let the police handle that kind of situation—,”

“But if you join the police, problem solved,” Neptune finishes.

Yang smirks and shakes her head. “Waddaya say, guys. Can I take my sister home?”

They both open their mouth to respond when there’s a shout from the other side of the door. _“Where’s Long?”_ Yang sighs. She supposes she should have known that the other detective would have come after her, but she really just wants to get her sister home, drown her failure in a Strawberry Sunrise, and deal with it tomorrow.

There’s a muffled response that Yang doesn’t hear, but someone ratted her out, because he comes barging through the door to the conference room. “Detective Ni,” Yang greets dryly.

“I can’t believe you let Black slip through the cracks,” he growls, crossing to the blonde in three strides. He sits just above eyelevel with her, but Yang stands her ground, crossing her arms over her chest.

“ _I_ let Black get away?” Yang shoots back incredulously. “You want to tell me what spooked her into running in the first place? Because it wasn’t me or my orders.”

“I’ve been hunting Black for _months_! And I’ve been on the force three times as long as you have. I think I know how to make a judgment call like that.”

“Yeah? And how’d that judgment call work out for you? It wasn’t even your call to make in the first place!”

Sun is suddenly stepping between them, nudging Ni back a few steps and holding an arm out towards Yang. “Hey now. Everyone just calm down.”

Ni shrugs Sun off, shooting a harsh glare at the blonde. Yang shakes her head and looks at her sister. Ruby hasn’t moved, but she’s looking at Yang with something between confusion and concern. The blonde shoots her a reassuring smile, then looks at Neptune.

“Ruby and I are going home,” she says, leaving no room for argument. Neptune nods, Sun still throwing cautious looks between her and the other detective. The two girls leave the room, but Yang can feel Ni’s hard eyes following them as the door swings closed behind her.

…

The ride home on the bus is tense and silent. A part of Yang is still fuming. If only Ni hadn’t tried to overstep her. She’d been so _close_. So close to closing a case that had taken other detectives over a year of work on. Ren had given her a huge break, but Yang knew that he wouldn’t be able to pull the same thing off again. She’d gotten lucky that time, but luck didn’t always run in her favor. And she wasn’t about to test it.

It didn’t help that Yang had pulled the hair bow out of her pocket and was staring at it like it might somehow magically spell out where Black is going to be next.

“So…” Ruby’s soft voice cuts through her thoughts. “Who’s Black, Yang?”

Yang glances distractedly at her. “What? Oh. Just the case I’m working on.” She shoves the bow back into her pocket. She flashes her sister a reassuring smile and nudges her with her shoulder. “So…” she says, imitating Ruby a few moments ago. “My baby sister stopped an armed robber?”

Ruby glances down at Crescent Rose, collapsed and tucked into her belt. “It was the only option. Nobody else was there besides the clerk, two little kids, and a mom with a baby hiding in the back. The police were pretty mad, though. Said I “escalated the situation”.”

Yang shrugs. “Well, you’ve got one proud sister.”

“So do you.” Ruby smiles, her silver eyes looking up. “Dad’s proud of you too.”

The detective teasingly pulls her sister into a headlock and rubs her short hair. “Proud of both of us.”

Ruby laughs and shoves her sister off. “Yeah, but maybe let’s not tell him about me fighting a guy with a gun. I’m not sure he’s ready to hear that yet.”

Yang laughs in agreement as the bus comes to a stop. “This is us,” the blonde says, standing up. The hour is late, so the bus is empty aside from the two of them. Ruby calls out a friendly “thank you!” to bus driver as he takes a big swallow from the paper coffee cup in his hand.

…

The next day, as Yang walks the few blocks between the bus stop and the precinct, she hears the shouting before she sees the crowd. The sky is cloudy but rainless, and Yang can see her breath form in a cloud in front of her face even as she tucks into the orange scarf around her neck. The crowd of people fill the sidewalk, some holding signs.

As Yang gets closer, she’s able to make out what’s being chanted. “ _Fair for Faunus! Fair for Faunus!”_ The crowd is—Yang sees as she approaches—mostly made up of Faunus, with a few normal humans in the mix, protesting outside the headquarters for Torchwick Bank. Yang’s brow furrows in confusion.

“Salutations! May I ask you a question?” The voice makes Yang stop her stride and turn around in surprise to see a girl with a head of curly ginger hair, light green eyes, and cheeks splattered with freckles. She’s got a pencil tucked behind her ear, a notepad open in her hand.

“Me?” Yang asks.

The girl nods, jutting her hand out for Yang to shake, which Yang does. “I’m Penny Polendina with the _Vale City Times._ I was wondering if I could get a statement from you on the accusations being made against Torchwick Bank of discrimination against Faunus in their hiring process and payroll.” Penny slips the pencil out from behind her ear.

Yang is shaking her head, shooting Penny an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta get to work.” She turns to leave, but is stopped by the reporter’s words again.

“Hey, wait. You’re Detective Xiao Long, right?”

The blonde freezes before turning back to face her slowly. “How do you know that?” Yang’s gaze narrows almost threateningly.

Penny’s eyes widen innocently. “Oh, I’ve just covered a few of the trials for your cases. I knew I recognized you. Keep up the good work, Detective.” Penny pulls a small cardstock rectangle from her pocket and hands it to Yang. “And if you need me, don’t hesitate to call.”

Yang takes the card, glancing at her watch. “Thank you, but I really am running late…”

Penny gives her a small wave, calling out a farewell as Yang folds herself into the crowd. She slips Penny’s card into her pocket, flips her collar up against the brisk air, and rushes off to work.

…

**A/N: Please, please, please tell me what you all thought! I absolutely love hearing from you.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I received a really good question last chapter, and I thought I’d explain something briefly here that might help. This is an alternate universe fic, but the specifics of the “universe” can largely be seen as a hybrid between our real world and the RWBY-verse. I.e: Semblances, weapons, and auras are all part of this universe. That becomes more important later, so I thought I’d just clear things up here.**

**Also: shoutout to Masterpick for his help in brainstorming and editing.**

**Please, please review… they mean more than you know, guys.**

**…**

A week and a half goes by and Yang Xiao Long follows far-flung leads to dead ends over and over. She’d revisited old case files so many times that she’d memorized them by heart. She’d revisited JNPR again, disappointed but not surprised when Ren explained that finding Coco had been a lucky break. Streets were silent now. Trails cold. Black was in the wind, and Yang was merely trying to fly a kite.

“Still don’t have any leads?” Weiss’s voice causes Yang to look up from her computer screen. The detective sighs and runs a hand down her face.

“Nope.” Yang throws the pencil in her hand down against her desk in frustration. “I’m floundering.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, Yang.” Weiss rolls her eyes and glances around the bullpen. There’s the quiet ring of a telephone, a few hushed discussions that are too far away to make out. Through the windows, Weiss can see the sun peeking up over the top of Vale’s skyline, casting the bullpen in a soft orange glow.

The soft scrape of heels against the thinly carpeted floor causes Weiss’s pale blue gaze to glance down the pathway. It was the secretary, her arms full of folders. _What was her name again?_

“Scarlet!” Weiss called out. The secretary looked up as she approached them.

“Officer Schnee.” Her voice is surprised and soft. “It’s… it’s Velvet Scarlatina, actually.” She glances into the bullpen, seeing Yang offering a friendly, albeit tired, smile. “Detective Xiao Long. Good morning.”

“Good morning, Velvet,” Yang replies. Yang had always liked Velvet. The detective had the sneaking suspicion that her Faunus rabbit ears heard more than she ever let on.

Weiss was standing a little bit taller than she was a moment ago. Stiffer. “Velvet, don’t you think Yang could use a break?”

Yang rolls her eyes and the secretary replies. “I do, actually.” Her dark eyes look knowingly at the blonde. “You’ve been spending quite a bit of time here at the precinct lately. I think your sister is becoming worried about you.”

Yang blinks in surprise. “Wait, how do you know about Ruby?”

Velvet’s brow furrows slightly as she tilts her head. “She called yesterday. I knew you were in a meeting, so I left a note on your desk…” her voice trails off at seeing the state of disarray Yang’s cubicle was in.

“You,” Weiss cuts in, narrowing an icy gaze at Yang, “need a night to relax.”

Yang lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ll be sure to go home early tonight and sleep in tomorrow. Deal?”

“Nuh-uh,” Weiss says, shaking her head. “If you just go home, you’re gonna work on the case. You need a break. A _real_ break. It’s Friday night, after all.”

Yang chuckles, then looks back at Velvet. Her brown and gold jacket brought out the depth of her eyes. “Have any fun plans this Friday, Velvet?”

“Well, actually…” Velvet laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of her head. “Some friends and I usually go to the Den on Friday nights. But… Neon can’t make it. If you guys wanted to join.”

The offer is sincere, but Yang catches the hint of doubt. There’s a beat of silence between the three that gets filled with the sound of the elevator dinging across the bullpen. The Den is the Faunus nightclub in Vale. It’s the last thing she expects their timid secretary to suggest. But a night at the club sounded… fun, actually.

“I’m in,” Yang says suddenly but certainly. She ignores Weiss’s look of complete bewilderment. “Sounds like fun, Velvet.”

Velvet smiles and glances at Weiss, who tries to school her astonished look into something more neutral. It isn’t clear to Yang whether Velvet noticed it or not. “I uh,” Weiss says, then clears her throat. “I’m afraid I’m gonna have to pass on the… Faunus club. You two have fun.” Weiss tosses a forced, uncomfortable smile to Velvet.

“Sounds like it’s just you and me,” Yang says, offering a friendly, warm smile to the Faunus. “This’ll be fun.”

…

Yang is wearing dark jeans and an orange crop top when she walks into the club later that night with Velvet, who is wearing a sharp black dress. People call out her name as they walk in, and Yang suddenly feels like she’s looking at Velvet in an entirely new light. Velvet yells over the blaring music that she’s going to go say hello to some people and probably dance, and would she like to come along? Yang declines. Her gaze has zeroed in on the bar to the left, and Yang could _really_ use a drink right now.

“Strawberry sunrise!” Yang calls out to the bartender. “No ice, and one of those little umbrellas.” He looks to be a couple years older than Yang, his features sturdy and chiseled, a sharp jaw hidden beneath dark scruff that matches his black, styled hair. He nods, turning to grab a bottle and allowing Yang to notice the dark tail. The blonde detective expects him to slide the drink down to her—she’s the only one sitting at the bar at the moment—but he walks over and sets it in front of her.

“You’re human, aren’t you?”

Yang takes a gulp of her drink, tipping the glass in the bartender’s reaction. “That’s me. Doubt you get many humans in here.” She jerks her head towards the dance floor. “I’m with a friend.”

He grabs a rag off the counter and starts wiping it down, even though it looks clean to Yang. “Yeah. Humans tend to not hang around these parts much anymore. The Den is one of the few places left in Vale where Faunus don’t have to pretend.”

Yang leans her elbow on the counter as she takes another swallow. “What do you mean?”

The bartender nods to the dance floor, which is getting increasingly crowded. “Faunus aren’t exactly… well-liked. They come here to let loose. Drown their shared sorrows. Most of them find ways of hiding their Faunus features during the day—hats, gloves, stuff like that—but here? Here, they get to flaunt it. And nobody looks twice except in appreciation.”

Yang is about to reply, but a young man with rounded ears poking up from his flop of blonde hair calls out to the bartender. She closes her mouth instead.

She glances out to the dance floor, the bassline of the techno-pop song turned up to the point that she could feel it in her chest. The floor and lights above were flashing between red, yellow, and blue, patterned spotlights tracing circles against the wall. Yang catches sight of Velvet, smiling and dancing with a friend she’d run into earlier in the night. Her rabbit ears stuck up, making her easier to spot. Yang smiles. Velvet had always struck her as shy and reserved. It was nice seeing her let loose a little bit.

The carefree smile of the Faunus fades after a moment. At first, Yang doesn’t see him—the crowd is thick and constantly moving—but it doesn’t take long before the detective figures it out. It’s the man behind her. He’s big, heavy, small horns sticking up through a short crop of spiked brown hair. His thin, sleeveless shirt shows off his muscles in a way that is faintly narcissistic. Yang’s eyes narrow as she watches them, his hands on her hips, pulling her against him.

Yang sees Velvet’s movement slow slightly, her eyes wide, her shoulders tensing. She tries to take a tentative step forward, away from him, but his grip on her hips tightens. He’s more moving _her_ than she’s moving herself. Yang’s on her feet before the first bass drop.

She makes her way over to Velvet, tossing her hands above her head and pretending to dance her way over. “Velvet?” she says, shouting over the deafening music. Sometimes that was enough—guys would back off if they knew the girl was talking to someone—but the man remains undeterred. His face is half-buried in her hair, his hands possessively holding her hips against his. Velvet’s eyes are wide and nervous.

“So sorry to bother you guys,” Yang continues loudly, her gaze flashing at the guy briefly. “Your scroll was ringing, and I think it was your boyfriend?” _That_ got his attention. Yang’s eyes flicker red for a moment. She hated playing the “boyfriend” card, but getting Velvet out of there is her priority right now. His hands fall from her hips and Velvet slips away, casting a grateful glance at Yang. _Thank you_ , she mouths, and Yang nods and steps between her and the man as she pushes towards the bar.

“Hey, hot stuff,” Yang says, stepping closer, forcing a flirtatious smile. His gaze drops to her chest and lingers a moment too long before flickering back up to her eyes. Yang sidles closer to him, her gaze taking him in. Sizing him up.

“You wanna talk or dance, babe?” his voice is low and gruff, his hands reaching out and tugging at Yang’s waist, his other hand wrapping around her and grabbing _too low_. Yang lets him pull her closer, but uses the momentum and drives a knee right into his crotch, pulling him down as he doubles over.

“ _Touch another girl like that and you’ll be dancing all the way to the hospital_ ,” she hisses in his ear before letting go of him roughly and pushing through the crowd back towards the bar. She finds Velvet leaning up against the counter, and Yang shares a glance with the bartender before turning her attention to the Faunus.

“Hey, you okay?” she asks.

Velvet nods. She offers a smile, but it’s fleeting and doesn’t meet her eyes. “Yeah. Thank you, Yang.”

Yang waves her comment off, flashing two fingers at the bartender who nods. He pulls out two shot glasses, filling them before sliding them down and calling out “on the house!”. Yang takes one and hands the other to Faunus. “Guys are jerks. I’ve got your back. Don’t let him ruin your night.” Velvet smiles again, a real one, and cringes as the hard alcohol burns down her throat. Yang grins. “C’mon. Let’s have a good time.”

….

Monday morning, the blonde detective gets called into Ozpin’s office, and Yang has a sinking feeling in her stomach. She knows that she’s not the only one that is coming under pressure due to her lack of success the past two weeks or so. A part of her wanted to turn the other way when she was told Ozpin wanted to see her, but she couldn’t outrun whatever the chief was going to lay on her. Not forever. And Yang wasn’t one to shy from confrontation anyway.

“Chief?” Yang knocks hesitantly on his door.

“Come in,” she hears from the other side. Yang opens the door and steps into the office that smells faintly of ink and coffee. Ozpin has the blinds to his large window drawn, the floor lamp in the corner casting the room in a warm, golden hue.

As relaxing as his office seemed, Yang couldn’t ease the tension growing in her shoulders. “You wanted to see me?”

Ozpin looks up at her over the top of his glasses, then sighs. “Yes. Take a seat, Ms. Xiao Long.”

“Well that doesn’t sound good.” Yang chuckles nervously, licking her lips as she sits in one of the stiff chairs on the other side of the desk.

Ozpin offers a wry smile. “Do you have any leads on the Black case?”

“Uh…” Yang rubs the back of her neck. “Not yet. I’ll come up with something soon, chief,” she adds hastily. “Any day now, Black is gonna reappear. Slip up.”

“Detective, I’m afraid we’re running out of time. Other cases demand our attention, and I need you working active ones.” There’s something Ozpin is leaving out. Yang can just…tell. Her gaze narrows.

“I’ve only had this case for two weeks, sir.”

Ozpin closes his eyes for a moment. “I’m aware of that. I can give you five days, Ms. Xiao Long. Five days to get a real lead on Black.”

“Sir--,”

“That’s all,” Ozpin finishes, cutting Yang off. “Five days, and then your time is up.”

…

**A/N: please review! Leave a comment? I’m dying to know what thoughts are floating around in your guys’ brains…**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: To anyone who has reviewed any of my chapters ever: I LOVE YOU. You guys are literally the best, and I can’t tell you how happy and encouraging it is to hear that you guys are loving it so far.**

**To clarify a point that a reviewer made: I know some of what has happened so far might seem out of the blue, or pointless, but I promise I’ve planned this fic pretty thoroughly. Everything I’ve included so far (and will be including going forward) has a very specific purpose. A lot of scaffolding needs to be built. I apologize if things seem slow, but hold tight. We’re on a roller-coaster that is still going up, friends. All of my thanks to those of you who have stuck with me.**

**Another special shout out to masterpick. His editing and brainstorming helps makes the story what it is.**

**…**

**3 Days Left**

Two days after Ozpin gives her a deadline, Yang’s cubicle is even more of a disaster than usual. Mostly illegible Post-It notes litter the floor and cubicle walls. Papers and reports are strewn across her desk and hung haphazardly on the whiteboard with magnets. The small trash can tucked away in the corner was overflowing with empty paper coffee cups and half-collapsed cans of energy drinks.

“Yikes. Did you even go home last night?” Weiss’s voice startles Yang awake from where she’d been slumped across her desk chair.

Yang bolts upright. “What? Oh.” She runs a hand through her hair and shakes her head as if to clear it. “No, I didn’t.”

Weiss sighs in a faintly disappointed way. “Yang, you’re running yourself ragged.”

“I’m fine, Weiss,” Yang says dismissively, waving her off. “I’ve got…” Yang checks her watch, then looks at the calendar on the wall to her left. “Three days to come up with a lead.” Her deadline is circled several times with a thick red marker.

The officer is still wearing a small frown of disapproval, stepping into the cubicle as Yang thumbs through the stack of folders and pulls one out. “I bet you’ve read these so many times you have them memorized.”

Yang gives a noncommittal hum that blends into the ambient noise of the precinct: the rapid click of keyboards, ringing of phones, the distant gurgling of a coffeepot. The mundane bustle of day-to-day police activity feels like an odd backdrop against the blonde detective’s intense, unrelenting focus. If she’s being honest with herself, it worries Weiss.

“Yang,” she sighs.

“I just don’t _get_ it, Weiss,” Yang suddenly grits out in frustration. “Black is meticulous. She does the exact same thing every single time and yet, nobody has seen her.”

Weiss glances at the folder open in on Yang’s desk, her light blue eyes scanning the contents. “Well, she had to have slipped up somewhere. Nobody is perfect, Yang, and she’s not a machine.”

“Slipped up…” Yang mutters under her breath, her brow furrowing. She freezes for a minute, and Weiss can see the slight shifts in her eyes as she sorts through her thoughts. Yang stands up suddenly. “I’m an idiot. But Weiss, you’re a genius.” Yang digs through her bag, grabbing something Weiss doesn’t see and shoving it in her pocket. The blonde shoulders her way past the officer, flashing her a bright grin, and making a beeline for the elevator.

…

“Hey, Oobleck,” Yang calls out as she steps into the precinct’s small forensics lab. The detective sees the head of spiky green hair peeking up over the top of a machine that Yang doesn’t know the name of. The lab is relatively what you would expect—white and metallic machines, computer screens, graphs and charts stacked into mostly-neat piles—but Oobleck had managed to squeeze in some personal touches too. Mostly, they were stacks of historical biographies and books about theories of quantum physics.

“Ah, Miss Xiao Long.” Oobleck’s short, quick voice cuts through the whirring that was an ever-constant in the lab. “Always nice to see a friendly face.”

Yang rifles through her pocket and pulls out the black hair bow she’d found that night she’d tried to catch Black. “Think you could help a friend out?”

Oobleck glances up at her over the top of his small, round glasses and eyes the bow. “Absolutely.” He walks around the machine and takes the ribbon from her hand. “Anything in particular?”

“Anything you can tell me. DNA, fingerprints… whatever you find that isn’t mine, I want to hear about it.” Running her fingers through her hair, Yang offers a wry smile. “I just hope I didn’t contaminate it.”

The forensics specialist eyes the blonde and then the ribbon for a moment before nodding. “Of course. Running the prints through AFIS will take about half an hour, assuming there are indeed prints.” Oobleck pauses, then turns around and starts walking back between the tables and computers. “I’ll prioritize your DNA processing, but it will still take some time, I’m afraid. If I’m running a full DNA diagnostic—STR analysis and the like—it may be a few days.”

Yang’s view of what he’s doing is blocked by a computer, and she feels the tension return to her shoulders at his words. She sighs. “If anybody can pull it off, it’s you, Oobleck.”

The corner of his mouth twitches in an almost-smile, but he leans over and his head of green hair disappears behind the screen, his voice carrying through the lab. “We will see.”

Yang nods, about to turn around and leave when his words stop her. “If I may ask, Miss Xiao Long, what do you want with our feline friend?”

The detective whirls around so fast her hair gets flipped behind her shoulder. “What _?_ ” She’s moving towards the scientist before the word is even completely out of her mouth.

Oobleck looks up, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “On a whim I pulled a hair off this ribbon of yours and took a quick look under the microscope.” Yang steps up beside him, and he moves away to let Yang look through the lens as he explains. “In layman’s terms, the texture of the hair and follicle structure indicates feline-based influences.”

Yang stares at it for a minute before pulling back. “So… you’re telling me a cat was wearing this bow?” Yang feels something inside of her sink. _So much for a lead._

Oobleck frowns, peering into the microscope again. “Not exactly. Everything is preliminary right now, but I’m guessing that whomever you are dealing with is a Faunus. Feline-based.”

 _Black is a Faunus_.

Those words repeat like a mantra through Yang’s head as she finds herself piecing facts together. All of Black’s crimes had happened after dark—not uncommon for break-ins—but now Yang knew it was also because Faunus had night vision. Harder to see them, but easier for them to see. Faster reflexes might help explain how Black manages to stay one step ahead, even when Ni called for a jump on her.

Oobleck’s voice cuts into Yang’s thoughts as he adjusts a dial on the microscope. “Unless AFIS finds a match for the prints, it may be a while before I can get you more information.”

Yang nods in understanding. “Thanks, Oobleck.” Her shoulders sag just a little bit. She hated waiting around for results, but Oobleck was the best and fastest forensic specialist she knew.

The green-haired scientist pulls back, pushing the bridge of his glasses up his nose a bit. “Have you taken a look at the victims?”

“I have,” Yang says slowly as she sorts through her thoughts. “There isn’t any obvious connection that I, or any other detective, has been able to find yet.”

“There is always a connection, Miss Xiao Long. No such thing as a random criminal.”

…

**2 Days Left**

The following afternoon, the blonde detective finds herself sitting at a corner table in _Jack’s Coffee Shoppe_ and sipping a vanilla latte. At Oobleck’s suggestions, Yang had called up Coco Adel after getting back to her desk. A brief phone conversation later, and they’d made plans to meet at the coffee shop on the corner of Rooster Street and Monty Avenue. Yang checks her watch. Glances at the files in the bag at her feet.

The door opens, the tingling of the bell catching Yang’s attention as Coco pushes her way in. She scans the room through her dark sunglasses before she catches sight of Yang in the corner. Coco nods, steps up to the counter and places her order before taking the empty chair across from the detective.

“Detective,” Coco says, pulling her sunglasses off and adjusting her black beret.

“Coco,” Yang says, setting her cup down and offering a friendly smile. “Thanks for meeting with me.”

“Hey, you guys managed to keep Black from actually stealing anything from me. Meeting with you is the least I could do.” Coco leans back in the chair, flipping her long bangs out of her eyes. “Though considering the news buzz has been low, I take it you haven’t actually caught the thief yet.”

Internally, Yang grimaces. “Not yet. That’s… actually why I’m here. I was wondering if you could do me one more favor.”

Coco arches a skeptical eyebrow, the brief moment of silence filled with the sound of a whipped cream canister running empty and the gurgling of an espresso machine. “What did you have in mind?”

Yang reaches into her bag and pulls out the files, quickly flipping through them and pulling out the pictures of the victims as she explains. “I promise it won’t take too much of your time. I just want you to look through a few pictures and tell me if you know or recognize any of them.” Yang slides the pile about halfway across the table.

Coco shrugs in agreement and reaches forward, taking the pictures. The detective watches her intently, looking for any sign of recognition and trying to ignore the slight sinking she feels in her stomach each time Coco dismissively tosses a picture back onto the table.

The girl has about four left in her hand when she stops. “This guy…” Coco says, her gaze narrowing at the image, “He looks… vaguely familiar.”

Yang sits up a little more as Coco shows her the picture. It was from before Yang had taken the case. Yang remembers his file; he’d had millions of dollars worth of art stolen by Black five months ago. “How do you know him?” Yang presses.

Coco’s eyes flitted upwards and to her left. _A sign of visual recall_ , Yang remembers. Finally, recognition dawns in her dark eyes. “Oh. I see him at my bank sometimes. I go about four times a week to make deposits, business and personal. I’ve seen him around.”

Yang nods, her heartbeat picking up just a little bit. “What bank?”

“Torchwick. Unfortunately. The Faunus Equality scandal has me rethinking a few business decisions. I may be changing banks here shortly.”

Yang stands up, gathering her files and the photos from Coco and shoving them into her bag. “Thank you, Coco,” she says. “You’ve been a huge help. I owe you one.”

Coco smiles and waves her off. Yang rushes out of the coffee shop to the sound of the barista announcing Coco’s order. “ _One extra-large skinny, fat-free caramel mocha latte, no whip, double shot with a twist!”_

**…**

**A/N: Ah, things beginning to pull together. But will Yang piece it together in time? Please, please, please let me know what you guys think. And to my American readers, happy Thanksgiving!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: To everyone who has ever reviewed, thank you and you are amazing. Sorry for the delay, my dears, but longest chapter yet to make up for it. _Lots_ packed into it. I hope you guys like this. See you at the end! *holds nose, jumps into pool***

**My endless thanks to masterpick. He is a wonderful human being.**

**…**

**2 Days Left**

Yang gets back to the precinct in record time and spends the rest of the day looking up each and every one of Black’s victims, cross-referencing them with their bank records and looking for any overlap with Torchwick Bank. A year and a half worth of victims add up, and Yang only gets about five in before she finds one that doesn’t have an account at Torchwick.

It doesn’t stop her. She chances a call to JNPR, and ten minutes on the phone with Ren and Pyrrha gives her enough to do the rest of the research on her own. An hour later, Yang finds the offshore account belonging to the victim making donations to the bank and some deposits into the accounts of the executive board for Torchwick. He’s not the only one, either; as Yang ticks off victims that she can connect to the bank, she finds more and more that do not have accounts but some other connection.

Six hours and eleven victims in, after spending forty-five minutes digging through one victim’s family history that doesn’t cross-reference with the bank until its initial conception generations ago, it occurs to Yang that this was why nobody else noticed the connection. As Yang steadily researches her way through the list, she notices that while the majority of them _do_ have accounts, there’s just enough that don’t. Just enough to throw people off the trail if they didn’t look too deeply into it. Yang had the feeling Black knew that.

But they’re all connected. Every. Single. One.

It’s 2:34 AM when Yang finds the Torchwick Bank account of the last victim on the list. When she finds it, her voice cuts through the quiet, stale air of the nearly empty bullpen.

“ _Ha_!”

Aside from tired glares from the two officers working late as well, Yang’s victorious excitement is meant with the disinterested whirring of the furnace kicking back on. The empty desks and cubicles add to the stillness around her, feeling to Yang an almost ironic contrast with how suddenly restless she felt. The world around her was asleep, but Detective Xiao Long had never felt more energized. She’d found the connection. It was only one step—Yang knew that—but after _weeks_ of feeling like she was running in circles, it was exhilarating to finally feel she had somewhere to go. Somewhere concrete.

Yang checks her watch and sighs. The public transit routes that run 24 hours, unfortunately, aren’t the ones that help her get home. She supposes she could call Ruby to come get her on Yang’s motorcycle that she kept parked in a garage in case of emergencies, but her sister was probably asleep by now. If she’s being honest, Yang feels a little guilty when she thinks of her sister. Every time she’d tried so far to apologize to Ruby, though, her sister waved her off.

“ _I just wish I could do it with you, Yang. Fighting crime, making the world safe for civilians…”_

First time she’d said it, Yang had pulled her into a playful headlock. “ _Aw, sis. Sooner than ya think.”_

Yang sighs again and shakes her head quickly. “Well, if I’m gonna be here anyway…” she mutters to herself, running a hand across her eyes and then down her cheek. She trudges herself down the makeshift hallway between the navy cubicle walls to the nearest coffeepot. It’s empty. Yang changes the filter and starts brewing a fresh pot, thumbing through her scroll as she waits. She takes a seat next to it as the coffeemaker gurgles unhappily.

The names of victims and their account numbers are still seared into Yang’s mind from the hours upon hours of research she’d just finished. The blonde detective yawns, pulling up the search browser on her scroll and typing in _Torchwick Bank_. Yang isn’t surprised when the first results that come up are headlines about the Faunus Equality scandal.

_Faunus Fire Back! Uncovering Torchwick’s Secrets_

_Torchwick v Faunus: Are the Claims True?_

_Fair Faunus Movement Gaining Traction in Vale_

_Faunus Fury: New Accusations Arise Against Torchwick Bank_

The blonde keeps scrolling, and is about to close out of the tab when something stops her short. It’s seven headlines down that catches Yang’s attention. _CFO Henry Knight Taking Trip to Menagerie during Scandal_ _by Penny Polendina._

Yang’s brow furrows as she clicks on the link. Her eyes go wide as she reads, everything clicking into place. “ _That’s it,”_ Yang murmurs to herself.

She’d found Black’s next victim.

…

**1 Day Left**

Yang meets Henry Knight the following day after an insisting phone call in which Yang repeatedly explained, _no, Mr. Knight, this meeting really can’t wait._ The man’s tenor voice seemed exasperated, but he eventually relented and asked Yang to meet him for lunch between his business meetings. He gave her an address, and said to be there by 11:34. A strangely precise time, if you asked Yang, but easy enough to accommodate.

The blonde detective arrives at Mignogna Bistro at 11:32. The place is quaint but classy, with white table cloths and clear champagne glasses adorning the tables still empty. There were more windows than walls it seemed, and it was a table against one of those windows that Yang sees the man she’s supposed to meet. His wavy light brown hair is carefully styled to stay out of his face, his pale face mostly made of sharp angles and flat planes. His suit is neatly pressed, and he’s got a scroll pressed to his ear. When he locks eyes with the detective, he waves her over, as he speaks something into the scroll that Yang can’t quite make out.

“Listen,” he’s saying into the scroll when Yang sits down. “Wolfram, buddy, I hear ya, okay? But we’re not gonna negotiate a settlement with the furries because they don’t have a leg to stand on. Or… tail. Or whatever.” He glances at Yang. “Look, Wolfram, I’ve gotta go. Business lunch. I’ll call ya back, mmkay?”

Yang still hears someone talking when he flips his scroll closed. “Very sorry for that,” he says as he slips it into his suit jacket pocket. “Miss Xiao Long?”

Something about him makes Yang bristle, but she forces a cordial smile. “Yes, sir. Thank you for meeting with me.”

Henry Knight picks up his glass of water, the ice cubes clinking in the glass as he raises his eyebrows at the detective across from him. “What can I do for you?”

Yang leans forward. “Well, about a year and a half ago, there—“

“I’m gonna stop you there, detective.” His scroll buzzes in his pocket, but he ignores it, his sharp gray eyes looking disinterestedly at the blonde. “I’ve got another meeting in half an hour across town, and then I’ve gotta catch my plane and get to Menagerie for a PR event. So, hit me with the highlights. I don’t need the whole story. Long story short, what do you need from me?”

Yang stares at him for a moment, but bites her tongue. _Don’t blow this, Yang_. “While you’re in Menagerie, a high-profile thief known as Black is going to attempt to rob you. I need your permission for us to set up a trap in your condo to stop her.”

Knight laughs. It was the kind of forced laugh where you could tell that the only purpose was to be condescending. Yang clenches her jaw as he responds, “Sweetheart, I get a break-in attempt pretty much on a weekly basis. Nobody has ever succeeded, and do you want to know why?” His smirk stays firmly in place as he leans back in his chair. “Because I’ve got some of the tightest security in Vale. Best that money can buy.” He shrugs, then looks Yang up and down. “Higher than _your_ paygrade, anyway.”

Yang’s hand clenches into a fist under the table. “Mr. Knight, even if she were to be unsuccessful in stealing anything from you, we’re sure that she would regroup and target somewhere else. We’re hoping to catch her in the act and arrest her so that she doesn’t go after anybody else.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, quietly regarding her with gray eyes and an unreadable expression. Then, as if coming to a decision, he holds his hands up in mock-surrender. “Alright, fine. You want to play cops and robbers with this chick, I’m not gonna be here anyway. What do I care? Here.” He slides a key across the table, his scroll vibrating again. He pulls it out of his pocket and looks at it before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Figures,” he mutters. “These… Faunus degenerates…” He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

Yang grabs the key off the table and stands up. “Thank you for your cooperation, sir.” He gives her a dismissive wave as he types away at something on his scroll. Yang leaves the restaurant and decides to grab lunch at the vendor on the corner instead.

…

“And you’re certain that Mr. Knight is Black’s next target?”

Yang is standing in Ozpin’s office, her arms crossed over her chest. Late afternoon sunlight streams in through the blinds and leaves streaks of light against the carpeted floor. The police chief sits with his elbows propped on his dark mahogany desk, his fingers folded in front of his face as he looks at the blonde over the top of his glasses.

Yang lets out a long breath. “Yes, sir. As certain as I can be.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Fair enough. You’ve already got his permission, so go ahead with setting up the stake out.” He folds the file closed and hands it back to her, a small smile tugging tiredly at the corners of his mouth. “You were pushing that five day deadline, Detective.”

 Yang takes the folder from his hands, a brief smile flitting across her face. Usually, Yang would have a quip of her own, but her mind is elsewhere. “Chief, if I’m gonna take down Black, I’ve gotta trust the people I’m working with.”

He arches an eyebrow, pulling his glasses off his face and grabbing the small cloth on his desk to clean them. “I take it that’s a less-than-subtle attempt to ask me if you can choose who works with you on this.”

“This might be our last chance.” Her lilac eyes are steady as they lock onto his hazel ones. “I have to be absolutely certain nobody blows it this time.”

 Ozpin returns his glasses to the bridge of his nose and pushes his chair back from the desk, standing. “Assemble the people you need, Miss Xiao Long. The sooner we bring Black in, the better.”

“I feel the same, Chief.”

The detective is so close to catching Black she can _feel_ it. She’d learned from the mistakes of last time, and she wasn’t going to let them happen again. When she backs out of Ozpin’s office, flashing a grateful smile at her boss, she wonders if her quick heartbeat that she can feel in her chest is a result of adrenaline or the too-many-to-count cups of coffee she’s consumed over the past five days.

Yang passes Sun’s desk. He’s got his hands folded behind his head, his feet propped up on his desk and his navy blue tie pulled loose around his neck. Neptune is leaning against his desk facing him, but their conversation dies off as Yang turns into the opening. “Hey, can I talk to you guys?”

Neptune raises his eyebrows as Sun shrugs. “What’s up?”

“Follow me.” She jerks her head down across the room, turning and making a beeline for Weiss’s desk. She folds her arms up over the top of the edge of the cubicle. Weiss slows her typing, her eyes traveling up the wall and locking onto Yang’s doe-eyed look of innocence.

“Can…I help you?” Weiss asks, suspicion saturated in her voice.

Yang grins at her. “How would you like to help me take down the most high-profile criminal to pass through this precinct in years?”

….

“I’m in position,” Yang says softly into her radio. “Ice Queen? Surf and Turf?”

It’s approaching 1 in the morning later that same night, and Yang glances around the dark condo again. All of the lights are turned off, but Yang still marvels at just how _big_ it is. The detective figures that her entire 2 bedroom apartment could fit in the space of just his living room and kitchen. The light wood floors reflect the moonlight peeking past the curtains, and it’s the only source of light aside from the barely-there glow from the digital clock on the microwave. Yang is waiting in the hallway that branches off the kitchen and into the bedrooms, in a position that all but guarantees that whether Black uses the window or the door, Yang will see her before she sees Yang.

“In position, and by the way, who came up with these code names?” Sun’s voice buzzes in Yang’s earpiece.

Yang can almost hear the eye-roll as Neptune chimes in, “What’s wrong with ‘Surf and Turf’?” There’s a brief pause, then a hurried, “Oh, and in position, detective.”

“Well, for _starters_ , which one of us is Surf and which one is Turf?”

“I’m Surf, obviously.” Neptune sounds mildly offended. “Y’know. Blue hair. Named after the Roman god of the sea?”

“Bro, you are _afraid of water_. Besides, I look more like a surfer than you do.”

“Dude, you swore you’d never tell anyone!”

Weiss’s voice chimes in. “If you _children_ are done squabbling, I am also in position.”

Yang smiles to herself and shakes her head as Sun continues, “Sorry, I was just saying. You can’t be “surf” if you won’t even go near water.”

“You’re a monkey-Faunus, Sun,” Neptune replies. “Despite what you think, you don’t really scream “surfer” either.”

“Which is why I was asking who came up with them!” Sun’s voice is an evident combination of amusement and exasperation.  

Yang rolls her eyes, finally chiming in even as her eyes survey the room carefully. “Do you have an alternative suggestion?”

“What about…SeaMonkey?” Neptune says after a beat of radio silence.

Sun’s voice cuts in again. “Dude, we literally just went over why associating you with any form of water doesn’t make any sense.”

Yang shakes her head and clips the radio back onto her belt as the officers’ banter continues in her earpiece. She checks her watch, glances between the window and the door, then pulls the scroll out of her pocket and sends a quick text to JNPR. She’d met up with the four of them earlier in the day after she knew she had the backing of Weiss, Sun, and Neptune. The precinct had access to the hotel’s security and cameras, but Yang had the suspicion that Knight installed some of his own extra security. Ren and Jaune had agreed to hack into it. The more eyes in the room that Yang could count on, the better.

_Any luck?_

Yang waits, anxiously glancing between her watch, the door, the window, and her scroll. She is suddenly aware of just how _quiet_ it is around her. Henry Knight’s condo was on one of the top floors of the building, high enough that Yang couldn’t hear the near constant drone of Vale traffic. The only thing Yang can hear is the whirring of the refrigerator and heating unit and her own breathing. Yang hadn’t heard how their debate ended, but even Sun and Neptune had gone radio silent for the moment.

She breathes in. She breathes out. Ten minutes tick by.

Finally, when Yang checks her scroll for the umpteenth time, she sees a message from Pyrrha flash by. _R and J are a go. Sorry for the delay._

She slides her scroll into her pocket as she feels her heartbeat pick up in her chest. It’s almost 1:30 AM. She has no idea when Black will show, but she can’t help the sudden surge of restlessness she feels. Her hand twitches in anticipation but she forces herself to stay still. She breathes in again.

She breathes out again.

The blonde detective isn’t sure how long she stays like that, doing her best to not move a muscle, her heartbeat refusing to slow as minutes drag endlessly. Her knees ache from her slight crouch, and she bounces briefly and silently on the balls of her feet to get the blood flowing through her legs again. She checks the clock on the microwave. The block numbers read 2:43 AM in a lazy green glow.

Yang sighs, but the breath catches and halts in her throat because she _hears it_.

The soft sound of the window sliding quietly open. Yang sees the corner of a stack of papers on the kitchen counter flutter in the breeze that blows through the kitchen.

There’s the nearly deft rustle of heavy fabric. _She’s parting the curtains._

Yang holds her breath, pressing her back up against the wall as she strains to hear the quiet padding of feet against the wood floors over her heart hammering in her ears.

_Wait for it._

Yang mentally tracks where the footsteps—based on their sound—travel around the condo. She can’t blow her cover until she knows that Black is far enough away from that window, because she didn’t close it. And she’s _not_ letting Black slip through her fingers again.

_Wait…._

The sound of the footsteps change. Yang silently straightens up, because she knows now that Black reached the shag carpet in the middle of the room.

The detective takes in a breath, then suddenly reaches for the light switch at her shoulder and whirls around the corner.

Yang sees the head of long dark hair and sharp amber eyes, even as the girl throws an arm up to protect her from the sudden assault of light that momentarily blinds her out of her night vision.

“Black.” Yang’s eyes narrow. “I think it’s about time you and I got acquainted.”

_…_

**A/N: *pops my head back up* So… what’d ya think? Let me know! I live for feedback.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Wow. Thank you a hundred times over to every single one of you who reviewed last chapter. You guys are the absolute best and some of my favorite people. Trust me, I’m just as excited as y’all that we’ve finally got a face-to-face for Blake and Yang. But hold onto your seats. We’re only just getting started.**

**Another special thank you to Masterpick for being wonderful. His help in brainstorming, editing, and his constant enthusiasm and encouragement is priceless to me.**

**…**

_Previously: The detective takes in a breath, then suddenly reaches for the light switch at her shoulder and whirls around the corner._

_Yang sees the head of long dark hair and sharp amber eyes, even as the girl throws an arm up to protect her from the sudden assault of light that momentarily blinds her out of her night vision._

_“Black.” Yang’s eyes narrow. “I think it’s about time you and I got acquainted.”_

…

Black freezes, her eyes sharp and narrowed. Yang can see the way her shoulders coil, and the detective positions herself between the thief and the still-open window. It’s safe to say that while Yang wasn’t sure what she was expecting of Black, it wasn’t…her. This girl’s long, dark hair cascaded down her back and blended in with a dark jacket that was zipped closed. The cat ears peaking over the top of her hair caught Yang’s glance as they twitched slightly.

She doesn’t say anything. Wary amber eyes follow Yang’s movement, and the detective holds up her hands. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you--”

Suddenly, Yang hears movement behind her. When she whirls around, she sees Black ripping the door open and tearing out of the room. Except… she’s still standing, frozen, where she was two seconds ago. _What?_

It takes Yang less than a second to go with her gut, turning and sprinting out the door after the moving Black. She grabs her radio as she sees the other girl’s figure disappear behind a corner. “Black sighted. I am in pursuit.”

 _“Where’s she headed?”_ It’s Sun’s voice, serious and energized.

“Hey! VPD!” Yang calls out to Black as she sees her turn another corner at the end of the long hallway. “Stop!”

It’s no use. Yang mutters curses under her breath and grits her teeth as she runs after her. Black pushes through the gray door labeled _Employee Access Only. Rooftop Entrance._ Yang throws an arm out to slam into the door’s bar and push it open before it slams in her face. She glances up the stairway and sees the bright, angular eyes glance down at her. She’s already several flights of stairs up, her hands gripping the railings from the outside and her feet prepped against them. She isn’t taking the stairs so much as she’s _climbing up the railings._

“She’s headed for the roof,” Yang says into her radio before yelling up at Black again. “VPD! I’m not here to hurt you, Black.”

The girl doesn’t respond. Yang sees her shake her head and push herself up, grabbing onto the next level’s railing with a speed that the young detective has to admit—albeit begrudgingly—is impressive. She glances quickly at her wrists. She still has her Dual Range Shot Gauntlets at her disposal, plus the pistol on her hip. But she doesn’t want to use them. Not until she absolutely has to.

Yang shakes her head to herself, sighing in frustration before she climbs up on the staircase railing and hoists herself up to the next level. Black is a fast climber, but so is she, and by the time Yang sees Black jump over the railing onto the staircase the blonde is only two staircases below.

She hears pounding against the door and feels a brief moment of relief. _She can’t get through. She’s cornered_. Yang hauls herself over the edge of the last railing. “Black,” she says, and the thief whirls around, her eyes narrowed at the detective. “You’re under arrest. You don’t have anywhere to go. It’s time to give up.”

Black reaches a hand behind her back and Yang feels a faint sense of dread because she knows. She _knows_ what Yang is doing, and the detective sighs as she activates her DRSG’s, self-named Ember Celica. Black pulls a weapon from behind her back. From the looks of it, it’s some sort of cross between a sword and a pistol. The dark color of it and the dim lighting of the stairwell makes it hard for Yang to tell much beyond that.

Yang shifts the weight in her feet, bending her knees to lower her center of gravity and her hands up to protect her face, preparing for the fight. Her aura is still at full level, so Yang is fully prepared to let Black make the first move. Yang hadn’t wanted to use deadly force—still doesn’t—but the second the other girl pulled her weapon, it gave Yang reasonable cause. So if she needs to, she will.

“You don’t want to do to this, Black. Just come with me.”

The girl stays silent, her calculating stare taking in every inch of the blonde. Black hasn’t said a word, but the sound of a pistol cocking echoes loudly in the empty, concrete stairwell.

Black is positioned above her on the staircase, giving her a bit of an upper-hand, but the difference isn’t dramatic. She hasn’t heard any doors open or close while she’s been in the stairwell, which lowers the likelihood that there are civilians that might get hit in the fight. The stairwell is tight, which means that whoever gets the advantage, it’s mostly a vertical fight than horizontal one. Yang is able to do the math in less than a few seconds.

Black continues to stare at her for a long moment, the two of them locked in a stalemate. Yang won’t fire unless Black does, and the blonde is pretty sure that—even though she pulled her weapon first—the other girl won’t shoot unless _she_ does. But she clearly isn’t willing to come peacefully. It’s a stand-off, and it stretches silently for what feels to Yang like forever but—more likely—was actually only a few minutes.

It’s cut short by a loud crack. Yang hears a gunshot go off, followed by a heavy _bang_. She braces, ready for the hit to her aura, but it doesn’t come. The door behind Black flies open and time catches up to the detective in one sudden rush.

Black didn’t fire at _her_. She fired at the lock at the door and broke it open.

The dark-haired girl disappears through the exit. The cold night air cuts against Yang’s cheeks as she sprints up the last few steps and through the broken door herself. The night sky above them is dark and starless, the glow lost to Vale’s city lights drowning them out. Even on the rooftop of one of the tallest buildings in the city, Yang can hear the traffic below faintly mixing in with the sound of her own breathing and Black’s footsteps scraping against the concrete.

Yang fires a warning shot at the floor beneath them. Sometimes that’s all that was needed. Yang had pursued fleeing suspects before, and while none of them had been as elusive as the girl she was chasing now… she figures it’s worth a shot.

It doesn’t work. Black disappears behind a corner and even though Yang turns it a second later, she’s vanished. _No_ , Yang tells herself. _Not vanished. Just hiding._

Yang cues up her radio again. “Black is on the roof. Surf and Turf, standby on the ground. I want eyes in case she finds a way down. Ice Queen, standby in the lobby in case she leaves back through the door and I miss it.” She ignores the chorus of _roger that_ ’s that echo in her earpiece as she positions herself against the heating unit on the roof, her eyes scanning the few storage containers the condo building had kept up there.

Yang had done some reconnaissance on the building before setting the trap up. The building was new enough to have forgone the fire escape. And Yang is between where Black disappeared and the door back to the staircase. The thief was cornered.

“It’s time to give up, Black!” Yang yells across the roof. “You’re just making this worse for yourself.” The blonde waits, but the only sound she’s met with is the wind whistling through the metal of the storage units, her own breathing, and city night traffic. “I’m not here to hurt you!” Yang tells her for the third time.

A beat of silence.

“You really think I believe that?”

Black’s voice catches Yang off guard for a moment. The girl had been entirely silent until now. She sounds distant, and is followed quickly by the sound of shoes scraping quietly against concrete. Yang leans out around the corner of the heating unit before pulling Ember Celica up a bit in preparation as she advances towards the sound.

 _Keep her talking_. “You should,” Yang calls back. “You don’t know me, Black, but I mean what I say.”

“Actually,” Black responds, sounding closer. Yang closes her eyes to help her place the sound for a moment. _Turn left_. Black continues, “I know quite a lot about you, Yang Xiao Long.”

Yang feels her blood run cold at the words, but training keeps her from stopping her movement. “So you know my name, but I don’t know yours,” the detective replies carefully.

“I know a lot more than just your name.” Her voice now sounds like it’s…coming from above, but at a distance. Yang looks up and sees her figure drop off the top of one of the storage containers. Yang picks up her pace as she moves towards her.

“If that’s true, then you should know you can trust me that I’m not going to hurt you.” _There._ She sees Black at the far end between two containers. She isn’t moving, but Yang doesn’t think to question why. She just moves quickly and quietly. She grabs her arm, her other hand reaching for the cuffs linked on her belt.

Black…vanishes. When Yang grabs her arm, she disappears into thin air. Yang’s eyes go wide, then flicker red briefly as she hears footsteps behind her. Yang isn’t sure what kind of tricks this girl has up her sleeve, but Yang is fed up with the mind games.

Black’s response comes from Yang’s 7 o’clock. The young detective whirls around. “I don’t trust you because I know your track record for being a loose cannon.”

“Well, I know quite a bit about you, as well.”

“I know you joined the force at 18 and was promoted at a nearly alarming rate to become the youngest detective on the force—,”

“That’s public record,” Yang shoots back, chasing down the sound of the other girl’s voice. She was closer. Yang was gaining.

Black continues, undeterred. “I know you have a younger sister named Ruby who attends Beacon University for a degree in weapons engineering but she’s spending the month with you. I know she walks her dog Zwei every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday and stops for chocolate-chip cookies on their way home.”

Yang’s hands curl into fists, her eyes flickering red again. “Have you been stalking my sister?” she grits out. Black’s voice is close. _Really_ close. Yang tenses, waiting for the response.

“I’ve been gathering information.” The reply is matter-of-fact. Yang is about to turn the corner to where she can hear Black’s movement, when the dark-haired girl’s comment stops her in her tracks. “It’s also how I know about your mother.”

Yang freezes. “What do you know about my mom?” Her voice is low and dark. Quiet, even as the detective feels her stomach start pulling into knots.

“Just that the hope of finding her is why you joined the force in the first place.” The voice comes from right above Yang’s head. The detective looks up, seeing the other girl perched on the top of the container Yang was next to.

Yang’s eyes flare red. “ _LEAVE MY MOM OUT OF THIS!”_ The detective uses Ember Celica and shoots behind her to propel her up. It catches Black by surprise, and Yang barrels right into her, knocking her flat on her back as Yang lands on top of her. The blonde pulls her fist back, her jaw clenched. Black throws her hands up to protect her face.

Yang stops.

Somewhere during the chase on the rooftop, Black sheathed her weapon. _She’s not a threat_. Yang wants to argue with herself—Black knows so much about her, Yang doesn’t even know this girl’s real name—but she knows that she can’t hit her. So she lowers her fist, her eyes still red, and she yanks the handcuffs harshly off her belt, grabbing the other girl’s slender wrists and snapping them on. Yang tightens them—maybe a little more than necessary—and tries to catch her breath as her eyes fade back to lilac.

Yang holds Black’s wide, amber gaze as she pulls her radio out. “Suspect Black is in custody. Repeat: Black is in custody.”

...

**A/N: Boom there it is. What did you think? I really, really wanna know what you—YOU SPECIFICALLY—thought about all that’s happened. ^u^**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: A thousand apologies for the wait, you guys. I have no viable excuse except that I’ve been very busy spending time with loved ones over the holidays, and I hit some writer’s block with this chapter. Again, sorry for the wait. Hope you guys like it! It’s a bit longer, both out of necessity and to hopefully help make up for the wait.**

**My perpetual gratitude to masterpick for his help in editing, brainstorming, and encouragement. And in life in general.**

**…**

If anything feels better than seeing Black be put in the back of the police cruiser, Yang figures it’s maybe the look on Detective Ni’s face when the thief is escorted through the precinct with Yang leading. The blonde is exhausted—now that Black had been caught, Yang suddenly could feel all of the sleepless nights catching up to her—but she holds her head high as she walks through the bullpen and the maze of hallways. She stops at the door halfway down the hall on the left, and swings it open.

“Here,” Yang tells the other police officers. They step aside and Black looks at Yang before walking into the room. The girl’s dark hair is a bit disheveled, and the silver handcuffs on her wrists somehow catch the fluorescent lighting that glares down from the ceiling. The dark gray walls nearly blend with the unpainted concrete floor. A plain black table sits in the center, two chairs on one side and one on the other. One of the walls is occupied by a large mirror.

“Take a seat, Black,” Yang says, nodding to the singular chair that faces the mirror. “Get comfy. You’re not going anywhere.”

She closes the door before the other girl can respond. Yang nods at the other officers and thanks them before they all congratulate her and head off in their various directions. Weiss and Sun—both of whom had walked in behind the team of officers through the precinct—follow Yang as she walks back to her cubicle and sinks into the chair with a long sigh.

 “So what all happened on the roof?” Sun speaks up, breaking Yang from her thoughts.

The blonde lifts a shoulder in a shrug, not pulling her gaze away from the girl in the next room. “Kept her talking,” Yang says, “and followed the sound of her voice. She didn’t have anywhere to go. It was only a matter of time.”

Weiss hands her a bottle of water. “Did she tell you anything?”

 _It’s also how I know about your mother_. “No,” Yang replies in a hollow tone, twisting the cap of the bottle off and taking a long swallow. “Not really.”

There’s a moment of silence before Sun breaks it. “How long are you gonna let her stew?”

Yang glances at the two officers. “I want to make her sweat a little before we try to talk to her…” The detective trails off as she sees Neptune come up and lean over the top of the short cubicle walls, his eyebrows raised.

“Well, Detective Ni seems to have something else in mind, Yang.”

“What do you mean?”

Neptune jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “He’s in the interrogation room with Black right now.”

“ _WHAT?_ ”

….

Yang practically runs into the room adjacent to the interrogation room. As much as she wants to barge into where Ni and Black are, she knows better. If she does that, the precinct looks disorganized. The blonde finally has the advantage on Black, and she won’t give the criminal a crack to try to worm her way through. So instead, Yang heads into the room next to it. This one—lights all turned off save for the various electronic equipment on a shelving unit on the far side of the room—backs the wall with the mirror of the interrogation room. The mirror is, in fact, a two-way mirror, and Yang stands in front of it and folds her arms across her chest as she looks at Black sitting stoically in the chair in the next room.

 _“Look,”_ Ni is saying, sitting with his back to the mirror. “ _Not talking won’t get you anything. You give us information, and maybe we can lighten your sentence just a little.”_

Black’s startling amber eyes glance up at the mirror, only slightly to the left of where Yang stands. She stays silent.

Weiss steps up beside her, clasping her hands behind her back. The detective hadn’t realized she’d followed her. Weiss scoffs. “Is he really trying to make a deal with her?”

Yang shakes her head. She knows exactly what game Ni is trying to play. He’s trying to get her to talk by using it as a bargaining tool. “He used ‘maybe’,” Yang replies. “Even if she gives him the information he wants, he won’t follow through with it.” Yang had seen a few detectives try the same tactic, but it had always rubbed the blonde the wrong way. She was a woman of her word, even with criminals. Besides, she knew—even before she noticed the girl’s unimpressed look—that Black wouldn’t fall for it.

Weiss’s cold response catches Yang off guard. “Good. I couldn’t imagine making a deal with a Faunus.”

The detective is trying to think of a response when Ni’s voice through the speakers diverts her attention again. “ _I’ve got all day, Black.”_

Black’s eyes flicker back to the mirror, and Yang thinks for a moment that she can see where Yang is standing, because her gaze lingers for just a moment at the same place where Yang is standing before narrowing back at Ni. _“I want to talk to Detective Xiao Long_.”

Ni’s stunned silence is echoed in the observation room. Yang feels Weiss’s icy blue eyes glance over at her to gauge her reaction, but the blonde isn’t sure what her expression is.

On the other side of the glass, Ni’s attempt to recover from the surprise is poorly disguised. “ _Are you—er, Yang, I mean, Detective Xiao Long can’t help--,”_

Black leans back in the chair. “ _You want me to talk? Let me talk to Yang.”_

…

Yang sits leaned back in the metal chair, a manila folder tossed haphazardly on the table in front of her. Black holds her gaze, her pale skin somehow looking even paler in the fluorescent lighting. The blonde detective knows that people are watching through the one-way glass, but she doesn’t let it phase her. Instead, she breaks the silence that stretches between her and the other girl.

“You know, all that talking we did on the roof and I still don’t know your real name.”

Her amber eyes don’t leave Yang’s as she replies. “Blake. Blake Belladonna.”

The reply, given quietly but readily, surprises Yang. The detective wonders what changed from when Yang had asked her for her name on the roof, but chalks it up to the fact that they now had the girl in custody. “Are you thirsty, Blake?” Yang asks suddenly.

Blake’s eyes widen in surprise, then narrow in suspicion. At a lack of response, Yang turns over her shoulder and says to the next room over, “Can we get Ms. Belladonna a glass of water in here?” When Yang turns back to the girl across from her, she looks faintly startled. The corner of the detective’s mouth turns up in something between a smirk and a smile. “In the meantime, Blake, we’ve got a few questions for you.” Yang flips the folder open.

Blake leans back, the handcuffs clanging against the metal of the chair. She doesn’t reply, but the slight, expectant raise in her eyebrows is all the prompting Yang needs.

“To start,” Yang begins, sliding some pictures from the crime scenes over the past year and a half across the table, “I want to know why you’ve been on a stealing spree the past year and half.”

Blake’s eyes flit quickly over the pictures before flickering back up to the detective across from her. “You can’t prove these were me.”

Yang is ready for the deflection. She’s heard it more times than she can count. The door swings open, and Weiss sets a glass of water on the table. Yang thanks her as she leaves, and the detective pushes the glass closer to the other girl. Blake is still looking at her with suspicion, but she takes the glass between her handcuffed hands and takes a sip.

Yang’s lilac eyes glance up to Blake’s cat ears. “So you’re a Faunus,” she says, redirecting the conversation without missing a beat.

Blake’s cat ears twitch slightly, and from the way her eyes narrow sharply at Yang, the detective knows that she hit on something. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

Yang lifts a shoulder, reaching a hand into her pocket. “Y’know, I heard once that a lot of Faunus like to hide their features during the day in an effort to blend in.” Yang pulls the black bow out and sets it on the table in front of her. She’d grabbed it from Oobleck’s lab before she came to the interrogation room to talk. Blake’s expression doesn’t change, but from the way her eyes linger a little too long on it, Yang knows she is right on the money. The detective presses a little more. “Look familiar?”

“No.”

Yang raises her eyebrows. “That was a quick answer.”

“Easy question,” Blake replies, her voice clipped and guarded.

There’s a beat of silence, and Yang catches the slight twitch of Blake’s cat ears as the detective suddenly leans forward and grabs the glass of water that sits between them, condensation leaving a ring of water on the table as Yang picks it up. “

Well, if the ribbon isn’t yours…” She flips to the back of the manila folder, under the pile of documents, and pulls out a small evidence bag and DNA swab. “Then I’m sure your DNA won’t match what we were able to pull from it.” She brushes the swab against the lip of the glass where Blake’s mouth had touched, and then slips the swab into the bag and seals it shut.

Almost as if on cue, the door to the interrogation room cracks open. Yang hands the evidence bag over to Neptune, who smiles briefly at Yang’s self-assured wink before wordlessly leaving the room. The blonde can’t help the brief sense of satisfaction at Blake’s glower.

Yang waits a moment or two, then pushes her chair back from the table. It scrapes against the cement floor loud enough to make Blake cringe. The detective walks out the door behind Neptune without another word.

…

The DNA is, in fact, a match.

Oobleck manages to get Detective Xiao Long those results within a few hours, and though Yang was hardly surprised, she has to admit it feels good to have that information in her back pocket. The blonde doesn’t talk to Blake again until the next day, which also means that nobody gets any information out of the Faunus. It’s one thing about Blake Belladonna that Yang can’t quite piece together.

 _Why did she only want to talk to me?_ The voice in the back of Yang’s head wondered if it had anything to do with how much information the thief seemed to have on her. The blonde doesn’t know, and she tries not to dwell on it.

Yang spends the morning of the next day watching different detectives take their crack at Belladonna. Some take a persuasive approach, some a more personable one. A couple of them team up and try a “good-cop-bad-cop” variation that is so transparent Yang almost feels bad for them. Blake sees right through all of it, and either shuts them down with a single clipped response, or doesn’t deem them with any response at all.

Yang takes a break around lunch and meets Ruby at the café around the corner. When she gets back, she figures she ought to stop by Ozpin’s office. She hadn’t had a chance to talk to him since before bringing Black in.

In fact… Yang hadn’t even _seen_ him since he’d given her permission to set up a trap at Knight’s apartment.

The blonde knocks softly on the door before pushing it open. “Sir?”

It’s…empty. Yang’s brow furrows in confusion as she takes the room in. It’s _empty._ The books, the files, everything. Ozpin isn’t there, but none of his stuff is either. Even the small plaque that sat on his desk with his police rank and name is gone. The pictures have been stripped from the walls. Ozpin’s silver thermos that was always at his desk has seemingly vanished.

The voice behind her, soft and surprised, still makes her jump. “Yang.” It’s Velvet, a packet of papers in her arms. Her head is tilted slightly in curiosity, her tall rabbit ears making the gesture more pronounced.

“Velvet,” Yang says. “Do you know where Ozpin is?”

The secretary frowns. “I think you just missed him. He left this morning.”

“What do you mean _left_?”

 “He packed up his office and left. I heard he’s being replaced as police chief.” Velvet lifts her shoulders apologetically. “Unfortunately, that’s all I know. It all seemed very…sudden. But I’m sure there was a good reason.” Velvet turns to leave, but pauses and looks back at Yang. “I’m surprised he didn’t say goodbye to you.”

“Yeah,” Yang says, but mostly to herself as she looks around the startlingly vacant office. “So am I.”

…

It’s late that night before Yang finds herself sitting across from Blake Belladonna again. The detective can’t help but feel a flash of irritation at the faintly amused smile on Belladonna’s face. Blake Belladonna was a criminal, and it was time for Yang to change her tactic. As the hours had ticked by without progress, Yang could feel her temper getting shorter.

They needed answers.

“Something funny, Ms. Belladonna?” Yang asks as she swings the door shut behind her and tosses the folder back onto the table. Yang grabs the two empty chairs and pulls them back to be against the wall and out of the way. She stands on the other side of the table, leaning her hands on the top of it and staring down at Blake.

Yang doesn’t give the Faunus a chance to respond. “Because you know something that isn’t funny? The sentence you’re looking at if you keep being uncooperative.” She opens the folder and starts laying out the case reports one by one, each landing with a quiet _thwack_ against the table. “213 instances of breaking-and-entering, high-profile theft, possible money laundering, embezzlement… Need I continue?”

The question is rhetorical, and again, Yang doesn’t wait for a response. “Given your reputation for evasion, your best case scenario is looking at life in a security max, Ms. Belladonna. And your lack of cooperation when it’s really only in your best interest completely boggles my mind.” Yang sighs. “I can’t help you if you don’t help me.”

Blake’s wide eyes quickly narrow. She doesn’t answer right away. “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know where all that money you stole is. I assume by now you’ve sold the art and jewels underground. But priceless art does, in fact, have a price.” Yang’s eyes are watching Blake carefully, looking for any of the tells that she’d learned both at the academy and through her own personal experience. “So where is it all? An overseas account in Atlas?”

Blake shakes her head. “I don’t have it.”

Yang scoffs. “C’mon, Blake--,”

“I don’t, Yang.” The detective bristles a bit at the use of her first name, but she’s distracted by the sudden memory of something Pyrrha had told her. A rumor.

“Say you don’t,” Yang concedes, her gaze narrowing. “What about the White Fang?”

From the fiery spark that alights in the girl’s amber eyes, Yang knows that she struck some sort of nerve. “I’m not associated with them.” Her voice has a hard edge to it.

“Rumor on the street says that you are,” the blonde presses.

Blake is shaking her head. “I _was_ ,” she says. “I’m not anymore. I left.”

Yang shakes her head with a humorless chuckle. “Sure.”

“I’m serious!” Blake snarls defensively. “I don’t have any of the money, and neither does the White Fang.”

Yang stares at the Faunus for a long moment. She doesn’t see any of the signs she knew to look for in a criminal who was lying. But then again, Black was good. She wouldn’t have almost gotten away with so much if she wasn’t a good liar. At least, that’s what Yang tells herself.

“You’ve gotta give me more than that,” Yang tells her. “Especially if you’re looking for me to help you.”

Suddenly, Blake’s ears twitch again as the intercom speaker clicks on. Yang sighs in frustration. She’d always hated being interrupted during interrogations.

“Uh…Detective Xiao Long?” It’s Sun’s voice.

Yang swallows back her frustration and looks up at the ceiling towards the speakers. “Yes?”

“The new chief wants to see you. Says it’s important.”

 _New?_ Yang thinks. _So Ozpin_ is _being replaced_. “I’ll be there in a minute.” The intercom clicks off, and Yang sweeps the loose papers back into the folder.

“Yang,” Blake says suddenly, her voice low and urgent. Her amber eyes flicker up to the video camera in the corner of the room before falling back on Yang. The detective raises her eyebrows expectantly. “This new guy replacing your chief. Don’t trust him.”

Yang frowns. “What?”

Blake opens her mouth to repeat it, but the door swings open and Weiss offers an apologetic smile to Yang before jerking her head over her shoulder. Yang nods, glancing once more at the Faunus—who now has her eyes cast down at her hands and her mouth closed—before following the officer out of the room.

…

**A/N: Whoo. Lots that happened, but I really hope this chapter didn’t bore any of you. Please let me know what you make of it so far!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Wheee. Thank you so much to anyone and everyone who left a review last chapter. I adore and get so excited about every single one. So thank you. Please, please keep them coming. So sorry about the wait; for some reason, this chapter was super hard for me to write.**

**Again, my gratitude towards Masterpick never fades.**

**…**

The man that stands in Ozpin’s office is a far cry from any of Yang Xiao Long’s expectations. His chestnut brown hair helps takes the paleness out of his skin, but the sharpness of his blue eyes briefly catches the detective off guard. Blake Belladonna’s warning— _This new guy replacing your chief. Don’t trust him.—_ still echoes in the back of her head, but there’s an ease about the man in front of her that helps the tension in Yang’s stomach loosen just a little bit.

“Miss Xiao Long,” he greets, his voice an animated baritone, somehow both exciting and placating. “So good to finally meet you.” He puts the cigar in his mouth into the ash tray, then extends a slender hand towards her.

Yang shakes it. “Uh, likewise, sir.”

“I was impressed with what you managed to do regarding the Black case. Out-of-the-box thinking like that is just what we need more of in this precinct.” He steps around the desk to lean against it. Yang takes a reflexive step back, unable to help but feel a little wary. He arches an eyebrow. “Something wrong?” he asks.

Yang crosses her arms over her chest, shifting her weight slightly. “No, sir. I just wasn’t expecting a change in the chain of command.”

He shrugs a shoulder. “I know the change is sudden for you, but let me assure you, detective, that your old chief has left the precinct in trustworthy hands. I doubt he would’ve left otherwise.”

 _So Ozpin left willingly?_ Something in Yang’s gut feels off, the puzzle pieces not quite aligning. “If I may ask, sir, why did Ozpin leave?” Yang glances at the name plate that is set on the desk. _Nick W. Mortroach._ It’s not a name that Yang recognizes.

Mortroach chuckles, flashing the young detective a good-natured smirk. “I’m afraid that answer is above even my paygrade.” _This new guy replacing your chief. Don’t trust him_. Yang can’t shake Blake’s voice out of her head no matter how hard she tries. Mortroach tilts his head, his blue eyes regarding Yang quietly. “Black seems to be uncooperative in the interrogations,” he says suddenly.

Yang shakes her head quickly, trying to clear it. “Yes, sir.”

“But she seems most willing to talk to you.”

Yang hesitates briefly. “She is.”

“Hm.” Mortroach studies the detective for a brief moment before pushing off the front of the desk and crossing over to Yang. “Be careful, detective. Black has been eluding us from the beginning, and the fact that she’s taken a particular interest in you is worrisome to say the least. She’ll say anything to make you doubt yourself. She’s a _criminal_. It’s what she does…” He caps a hand on Yang’s shoulder, making the blonde detective’s lilac eyes look up to meet his piercing blue ones. “You’re a smart girl. Don’t let her worm her way into your thoughts. You’ve got the whole precinct to back you up. Myself included.”

Yang nods, the tension easing out of her shoulders and her resolve hardening. “Thank you, sir.”

He nods once, stepping back and walking behind his desk again. “However, I must insist that you continue to talk to her. I hear that she told you she doesn’t have that money?” At Yang’s nod, he shakes his head. “She has to have it. We need that information. That’s your top priority.”

There’s a soft knock on the door, and both Yang and Mortroach turn towards the door. A girl that Yang doesn’t recognize—short, thin, with hazel eyes and wearing a black pantsuit—is holding a clipboard and looking expectantly at the two of them.

“Ah, Yang, this is my assistant. Nancy.” The girl offers a small smile, and Yang offers a friendly wave. Mortroach continues. “And I’m afraid her knock is my cue that I have some business to attend to. Thank you for stopping in, detective. Remember: we have to get Black to tell us where the money is.”

…

“Ha! Trap card!”

The victorious shout cuts through the ambient noise of the café where Yang had decided to meet her sister, Ruby. As reassuring and helpful as her discussion with the new chief had been, the detective knew that she needed to get away from the precinct. It had been too long, and her sister was only visiting her for a few more weeks. She’d called Ruby a little before noon, and was all too happy to oblige when her sister suggested they meet at the casual café known for also providing board games to its patrons.

The game that Ruby had grabbed some the shelf was both of the girls’ favorite:  _Remnant: The Game._

“You don’t scare me!” Ruby shoots back, her eyes nevertheless widening as Yang’s shout is accompanied by her reveal of the Giant Nevermore card. “If you roll a 6 or lower, your own nefarious plan will completely fall apart!”

“You’ve left me no choice! It’s a chance I have to take.” Yang smirks, scooping the dice up into her hands shaking them, and then letting them roll across the table. One stops at 4.

The other…. At 2.

Both girls stare at the dice for a long moment, Yang’s smirk falling into a teasingly devastated jaw-drop as a slow grin spreads across her sister’s face.

“Yes!” Ruby shouts at the same time her sister wails, “Nooooo!” With a surge of confidence, Ruby tosses another card between them. “I’m pulling the Atlesian Air Fleet!”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I already did!” Ruby starts moving the necessary pieces around the board in a flurry of excitement at her impending victory. “I surpass your ground forces and attack your wall directly. With your forces diminished by half, and by playing _this_ card—“ Ruby lays another one down—“You wall comes tumbling down. Take _that_ , Yang Xiao Long!”

Yang’s eyes water with fake tears, bringing a hand up to her chest. “I thought we were _sisters_.” She points a dramatic finger in Ruby’s face. “I will not soon forget this betrayal, Ruby Rose.”

“All is fair in love, war, and _Remnant.”_

The two sisters stare at each other for a long moment before they both fall into fits of laughter. In the back of her mind, Yang realizes it’s the first time she’s laughed that hard since before she was assigned Black’s case. As both girls calm down, Yang tries not to think much about work. She came here to hang out with her sister and forget about the case for a little while anyway.

Ruby, however, keeps glancing up at her as the two of them start putting the pieces back in the box and folding the board up. “That’s the first time I’ve beaten you at _Remnant_ in, like, two years. You okay, Yang?”

Yang flashes her a smile. “Of course.” She adds, teasingly, “I’m not convinced you didn’t cheat.” It’s a deflection; flimsy, at best, and Yang can tell that Ruby sees right through it. But regardless, her younger sister lets it drop. Ruby always had been good at reading people, and Yang can’t help but think that her little sister would make a great cop someday.

…

“Yang! We didn’t know you were coming.” Jaune offers a friendly smile as he swings the door open to let the police detective into the dingy motel room. They hadn’t moved locations from the last time that Yang had been there, but the six cardboard boxes that sat on one of the two beds in the room was an indication that they were working on moving.

“You guys changing location again?”

“We have to,” Nora explains matter-of-factly in her perpetually bubbly voice. “At least, in our line of work. We’ll stay in Vale and get you our address, though.”

Yang smiles. “I appreciate that.”

“How’s that Black case going? Any luck?” Jaune asks, taking a seat in the arm chair closest to where Pyrrha was sitting on the couch, with Ren sitting on the other side of Pyrrha. It suddenly occurred to Yang that she hadn’t updated them from when they’d likely seen both Blake and her run out of the room. That chase felt like ages ago. Was it really only a couple of days?

Yang takes a seat on the edge of the bed and leans her elbows on her knees. “She’s in custody, but… I don’t know. It’s weird.”

“Weird in what way?” Pyrrha asks, closing the heavy, red leather-bound book in her lap and giving Yang her full attention.

The blonde runs a hand down her face and sighs. “Black’s real name is Blake Belladonna. But that’s been about the only viable, helpful information we’ve been able to get out of her. We’ve…kept her longer than we probably should,” Yang admits, “I’m not sure how the feds aren’t breathing down our backs. Anyway, she says she’ll only talk to me, but when I’m in there… She just gives me excuses.” She looks up at the four of them. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Never just a social visit, huh?” Jaune replies, his tone full of good-natured teasing.

Yang huffs a laugh. “One of these days. But I really need some information right now. It’s important.”

Without further prompting, Ren grabs his laptop off the small coffee table in the corner of the room and opens it. “What information do you need?”

“I have to know where all this money went. From the cash, art, jewels, and everything else she’s stolen, she had to be keeping that money in some sort of account somewhere.” Ren starts typing.

“And this…Blake wouldn’t tell you anything?” Nora frowns, then shrugs. “I guess that can’t be too surprising. But if there’s any paper trail, Ren’ll be able to track it down.”

Without stopping his typing or looking up from the screen, the corner of Ren’s mouth tugs up in an almost-smile. “Your faith in me never falters, does it?”

Nora taps her finger once on the tip of his nose. “Boop. No it doesn’t.”

Yang smiles at the two, but Jaune’s comment quickly draws her attention. “I’ve gotta say, I know Blake has been a pain for you, Yang, but her semblance isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen.”

“What do you mean?” Yang asks.

Jaune grabs his own laptop and pulls it open. “I’ve been going over the security footage we got from Knight’s own cameras as well as the complex’s, and… well, do you remember when you thought Black was standing in front of you, but then suddenly she was running out the door at the same time?”

Yang nods as Jaune turns the computer around so the screen faced her. She remembered that. She also remembered the way Blake had completely vanished in her grip on the roof. _Was that part of her semblance?_ Yang watches the video that Jaune pulled up of that moment in the apartment. Blake stands in front of her, but then suddenly seems to separate from herself and suddenly there are _two_ Blakes in the room, one of which immediately bolts for the door.

“You think that’s her semblance?” Yang asks, but even as the question leaves her mouth, she realizes that that’s really the only explanation.

“We do,” Pyrrha answers with certainty.

Several moments go by, filled mostly with idle conversation. Yang can’t help but occasionally check her watch, distracted with how long she’s been away from the precinct and wondering—perhaps fruitlessly—if any of the other officers had gotten any information out of Blake yet. In the back of her mind, Yang also wonders if they remembered to give the girl lunch.

The blonde’s thoughts, however, are interrupted when Ren clears his throat. “There’s nothing here.”

Yang blinks, certain for a moment that she must’ve heard him wrong. “What?”

Ren lifts a shoulder, a faint surprise in his eyes that echoes the bewilderment Yang feels. “There’s no paper trail that I can follow. It just doesn’t exist. There’s no account under Blake Belladonna’s name, and I don’t see any accounts that I can search with suspicious deposits that would amount to her liquidated assets.” He pauses.

“So the trail just runs cold?” Nora asks him.

“What about multiple accounts?” Yang asks earnestly. “Could she be running a shell game?”

Ren sighs faintly. “I already thought of that. But the trail never begins in the first place. It’s not that I lose it so much as I can’t find it in the first place. Wherever Belladonna is keeping her liquidation, it isn’t in a bank account.”

…

“Ms. Belladonna, we know you have it somewhere. You’re cornered. There’s no way out, and nobody is coming to your rescue. It’s just you and me, and I’ve got all night long. Where’s the money?”

That evening, Yang sits in the interrogation room across from the Faunus for the fifth time. Blake had the beginning of dark circles under her eyes from sleepless nights spent in the interrogation room. An empty Styrofoam plate—one that had an apple core and the remnants of a ham sandwich—sits between them, along with a half-drunk glass of water. Blake’s dinner.

“I’ve been telling you, detective,” Blake says, flashing an annoyed look at the blonde. “I don’t have it.”

Yang feels a flash of irritation herself, but she holds it back for now. “Say I believe you. Hypothetically.” She leans forward, fiercely meeting Blake’s amber gaze. “That still doesn’t tell us where it _is_ , only where it _isn’t_.”

There’s a brief pause before Blake adverts her gaze, downward and to Yang’s right. _A sign of internal dialogue being engaged_ , Yang remembers. She just wishes that she could _hear_ that dialogue. Regardless, it’s clear to the detective that the criminal across from her isn’t going to be telling her the information she needs. Not yet, anyway. So Yang changes her tactic.

“Here’s something else I don’t get,” Yang says, leaning back in her chair. Blake’s eyes lock onto hers again as she continues. “I met a couple of your victims. Ms. Adel and Mr. Knight. And Mr. Knight could get on someone’s bad side in a hurry. I get that. But why Coco? What did you have against her?”

Blake scoffs and shakes her head. “It’s… not like that. You wouldn’t understand.”

“You aren’t giving me a chance to,” Yang snaps in frustration.

The words are meant with silence. Blake won’t look at her, instead choosing to look down and to the left. In the back of her head, Yang recognizes the eye-movement as a sign of memory kicking in, but she’s too frustrated to probe for information. The detective huffs a breath, grabbing the plate off the table as she stands.

“I’m talking to a brick wall,” she mutters, but loud enough for the Faunus to hear. Then, more pointedly to Blake, “You’re clearly not willing to actually talk to any of us. I can’t help you, Blake.”

The dark-haired Faunus stays silent as Yang leaves the room, letting the door swing behind her with a heavy thud. She tosses the plate in the trashcan at the end of the hall and is about to head for her cubicle so she can pack up and call it a night—she has the sinking feeling that she isn’t going to get any real answers out of Black tonight. And as much as going home feels a little to Yang like giving up, she tells herself that it’s just to get her head screwed on straight before she confronts the girl again.

Yang shoulders her bag and turns the lamp on her desk off before checking her watch. _11:23_. Yang sighs, runs a hand over her face, and walks to the end of the makeshift hallway between the cubicle walls. As she passes the chief’s office, she hears her name called out.

“Ah, Detective Xiao Long. Can you spare a moment?”

Yang stops in her tracks, grimacing because she _really wants to go home_ , but turning around and forcing a pleasant smile as she steps inside the office. “What do you need, sir?”

Mortroach is typing away at the computer on his desk, but he pushes the rolling chair back as Yang steps forward. If the blonde girl is being honest with herself, she can’t shake the sense of weirdness at seeing someone else sitting in Ozpin’s chair.

“I take it that you were not able to get Black to tell you where the money is?”

Yang rubs the back of her neck. “Not yet. Sorry, sir.”

“Don’t even worry about it, Yang,” he says, waving her apology off. He stands, brushing the creases of his white button down shirt. “I’ve decided that it’s time we try a…well, a different tactic.”

Yang raises her eyebrows, tilting her head in confusion. “What tactic do you have in mind?”

Mortroach looks at her for a long moment before responding. “I will be bringing in two interrogation….specialists, if you will. Just to help speed things along before Black gets shipped off to a security max. There isn’t any information these two haven’t been able to get for me when I need them to. You’re off the hook, detective.”

Yang frowns. Pulling people in from the outside to get information from a suspect isn’t something she’s ever seen done throughout her career. She wasn’t even sure it was legal. “Interrogation specialists?”

 “They are very well trained, Yang.” Mortroach gives her an easy smile.  “You don’t need to worry. I just wanted to let you know. Catch up on some rest tonight. You’ve certainly earned it.”

Yang takes the dismissal for what it is, and adjusts the strap of her bag on her shoulder. She turns to leave, but curiosity and uneasiness are still at war in her stomach. She stops at the door, turning back to the chief. “Sir? If you don’t mind telling me, what are these interrogation specialists’ names?”

He glances up from his computer and looks at her, the corner of his lips tugging upward in a small smile. “Emerald Sustrai and Mercury Black.”

…

**A/N: I would love, love, love to hear any thoughts you guys are having!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Strap in everybody. Seatbelt check? Everybody got a helmet? Yes? Good. Lezzgo. ;)**

**Many thanks to Masterpick, as always. There’s a pseudo-shout-out to his main fic in this one. Go check his out!**

**Finally, numerous thanks to anyone who has—in anyway—let me know what they think of this. It means so, so much to me. ^u^**

**…**

The next morning, Yang Xiao Long wakes up to something small and wet on her face. Opening her eyes, Yang can’t help but chuckle when she realizes that her alarm clock this morning is none other than Zwei licking her face, his small tail wagging as the blonde sits up and rubs sleep from her eyes. The detective stretches her arms up above her head and arches her back before scratching the corgi’s head right between the ears.

Yang throws the covers off her and quietly pads her way to the kitchen. Yang feels faintly relieved that the apartment isn’t cold this morning—she always slept in an orange tank top and black shorts, and the fact that the thermostat in her apartment was finicky usually meant that she woke up with chills on her arms and legs. This morning, though, the temperature was comfortable.

The two-bedroom apartment is relatively small, but Yang had always appreciated the disproportionately large amount of storage space. She crouches down on the balls of her bare feet in the still-dark kitchen, opening the cabinet under the sink for a frying pan. Blindly reaching, Yang’s hand grasps a handle. She pulls.

The clatter of pots and pans that tumble over seems to echo deafeningly in the otherwise silent apartment. Yang freezes, cringing to herself and Zwei—still happily wagging his tail next to Yang—in the dark. She doesn’t move until a moment later, when she hears the pounding of feet and rapid clicks of metal.

“Ruby, it’s me!” Yang shouts before her sister swings at her with Crescent Rose. The older sister jumps to her feet, her hand reaching for the light-switch next to the sink. She’s met instead with the garbage disposal whirring up.

“Yang?” Ruby’s soft, soprano voice floats in the darkness with something between confusion and tiredness.

The blonde turns off the garbage disposal and flips the switch to turn on the light. “Yeah. Sorry, sis.”

The younger girl squints against the sudden onslaught of light that floods the kitchen, but she quickly collapses Crescent Rose. “What was that noise? I thought someone might’ve broken in.”

Yang lifts the frying pan in her hand up to show her. “Thought I’d make some breakfast.”

“Eggs?” Ruby’s eyes light up at the thought of breakfast.

Yang laughs. “Grab the eggs out of the fridge. You like yours scrambled, right?”

“Yeah. You like yours over easy. Which is weird.”

Yang digs a spatula out of a drawer and waves it teasingly at her sister. “Hey now. Be careful insulting the chef.”

 Ruby sticks her tongue out as she pulls the eggs out and closes the refrigerator.

…

When Yang gets to the precinct, she heads straight for the observation room adjacent to interrogation. She offers a friendly mock-salute to Velvet as she passes the front desk, throws her bag into her cubicle without breaking stride, and ignores Weiss saying her name as she passes the other girl’s desk.

The heels of Yang’s brown boots scrape softly against the dull slate-colored carpet as she makes her way down the hallway to the room. She has the distinct feeling that Emerald and Mercury are probably already working on the interrogation, and even though she can’t take part in it on Mortroach’s implied orders, she wants to at least watch. Blake Belladonna is still her responsibility, as far as Yang is concerned.

The detective reaches the door, her hand on the cold silver handle, but it opens suddenly to reveal both the chief and his assistant. Mortroach says something Yang doesn’t quite catch over his shoulder, his form taking up most of the entryway. He looks completely unfazed at Yang’s presence in front of him, but he steps forward, Nancy moving out of the way as well, and pulls the door shut behind him, making Yang take a step back to avoid being chest-to-chest with him. 

“Can I help you, Miss Xiao Long?” His voice is friendly, but Yang can’t help but feel a surge of frustration.

“I assumed, sir, that your two specialists had arrived and begun their interrogation,” Yang says. “I…was hoping that…” She trails off at Mortroach’s raised eyebrows.

“They have, Detective,” he replies easily. “And you can rest assured that they will get Black to give us the information we are looking for.”

Yang catches the underlying demand that she stay out of the observation. Her lilac gaze narrows at the man in front of her slightly. “Sir, Blake Belladonna was initially my case—,”

Mortroach interrupts her sentence with a dismissal wave. “And you did exceptional work, detective, but you’ve been running yourself ragged ever since you got her case file, I’m sure. So take a break. I left some reports on your desk that I need to be typed, if you wouldn’t mind. Easy stuff.”

“Sir--,” Yang tries again, but the chief is already walking away from her and disappears behind the corner. The blonde frowns, checking the now empty hallway in both directions before she tries the handle to the door again. It doesn’t turn.

_They locked it?_

“Yang?” Weiss’s voice cuts through her thoughts as she turns the corner with Sun.

The detective shakes her head to clear it, backing away from the door. “Hey, guys.”

Sun is arching an eyebrow, his hands slipped into his pockets and his tie—for once—tightened up around his neck. “Did they lock you out of observation?”

Yang glances at the door handle again, but Weiss is the one to speak up. “I’m sure it wasn’t to keep _you_ out, Yang. Black is high-profile, remember. Maybe the new chief is just worried someone without clearance will hear something they shouldn’t. I sometimes think the interns can’t help themselves.”

“Yeah,” Yang replies hollowly, her gaze lingering on the door for just a moment longer before she turns to her two coworkers. “You’re probably right, Weiss. Especially since he hired…specialists.” The word tastes funny in her mouth.

Weiss and Sun wear nearly identical looks of surprise. “What?”

Yang nods. “Some people by the name of Emerald Sustrai and Mercury Black.”

“Wait, Mortroach hired _Emerald and Mercury?_ ” Weiss sounds faintly impressed, recognition and a level of respect clear in her voice.

“You know those guys?” Sun asks.

Weiss shrugs. “Not really. I recognize those names, though. All I really know about them is that if Mortroach called them, then we’re definitely gonna find out what happened to the money Black stole.”

“Blake,” Yang corrects automatically, not even registering that she said it until she sees Weiss’s look of confusion. The detective shakes her head. “Nevermind. That’s what I keep hearing,” she says in reply to Weiss’s comments on Emerald and Mercury.

Weiss gives her a reassuring smile. “You worry way too much, Yang. I’m sure Mortroach knows what he’s doing. They wouldn’t let him be chief otherwise.”

…

The blonde detective sighs and stretches her neck as she sits at her desk several hours later. It’s mid-afternoon, although the overcast sky limits the afternoon sun from streaming through the windows into the bullpen. The glare from the fluorescent lights on the computer screen goes by unnoticed, not unlike the hushed discussions and clicks of keyboards that serve as background noise. Yang is doing her best to get back into the grind of every-day police work, but she can’t help but feel it’s a bit mundane after the past few weeks.

Her scroll vibrates on the desk next to her, and the detective can’t help but feel grateful for the distraction. She clicks the screen on, surprised to see Nora’s number flashing on the screen. Yang opens the message, part of the group text she’d set up with JNPR before they caught Blake.

_We’re bored. Got anything for us?_

Yang chuckles and shakes her head to herself. _Unfortunately no. Sry._

Jaune is the one to reply. _Remind us again why we promised to stay out of trouble?_

_YXL: Because otherwise I’d have to arrest you._

_JA: Right._

_LR: So the case is going well?_

_YXL: Wouldn’t kno_

_NV: ?_

_JA: Huh?_

_YXL: New chief basically pulled me._ Yang sighs as she types it out. Even if she hadn’t been formally taken off the case, it’s how it felt. _Haven’t seen Black 2day_

_JA: That’s weird._

_PN: New chief?_

_YXL: Yup. Oz left. I didn’t tell you guys that yesterday?_

_NV: Nope. Who’s the new guy?_

_YXL: Some guy. Nick Mortroach._ Yang hesitates, then adds, _he seems okay. Not Oz, but still._

Yang’s scroll buzzes again in response, but the blonde hears footsteps approach and stop at the entrance to her cubicle. She ignores the text, turning the screen off before spinning around in her chair to see Mortroach leaning up against the cubicle wall. Yang blinks, surprised, before recovering.

“Uh, good afternoon, sir.”

Mortroach offers a faintly bemused smile. “You look bored.”

It’s not the statement Yang was expecting, and for a moment, she’s also not sure how to respond. “Um…”

“C’mon,” Mortrach says with a faint chuckle, jerking his head in the vague direction of the interrogation room.

“Sir?”

The chief arches an eyebrow. “It had appeared this morning that you may have been interested in watching some of the interrogation. Initially, I had thought you were doing so out of obligation.” He smiles again. “That, however, is evidently not the case. So if the desire is still there, Ms. Xiao Long, I’d be more than happy to unlock the door for you. We only lock it to keep out those who don’t have the clearance level. Interns and the like.”

Yang jumps to her feet. “You kidding?” she asks. “Let’s go.”

…

The blonde detective walks into the darkened observation room, nodding to the young technician sitting near the table with the video and sound recording equipment. It’s only then that she notices most of the lights on the equipment are off. _Are they not recording?_ It was unusual, but not unheard of. Yang had seen them turn off the recording equipment one or twice throughout her career, usually when they wanted to take things off the record. Were they about to make a deal with Blake?  

There’s only one other person in the observation room, but Yang can see his face clearly by the way it’s dimly illuminated by the glow of the lights in the adjacent room. _What is Ni doing here?_ He stands with his arms crossed, looking intently—perhaps faintly intrigued—at what was transpiring on the other side of the glass. Yang stands on the other end of the one-way glass and follows his gaze.

The table had been removed from the interrogation room. That’s the first thing Yang notices. Blake Belladonna—wrists and ankles still in cuffs—sits in the stiff chair in the center of the room. Her cat ears were peaked rigidly as if on high-alert, her long hair a bit disheveled, her amber eyes looking slightly sunken in a way that caught the detective faintly off guard.

“You really don’t like making this easy, do you?” says a deep, irritated voice. It comes from a boy—younger than Yang was expecting, although she guesses he is probably around her age—with silver hair and dark brown eyes. He stands with his feet firmly planted directly behind Blake.

Through the microphone in the room, Yang hears the soft click of shoes on the concrete floor. “Easy’s no fun anyway.” The feminine voice belongs to the girl on the left side of the room with dark skin and mint green hair. The way the fluorescent light above them glints off her red eyes makes her smile look even more threatening.

Blake’s head jerks towards the other girl, and it’s then that Yang notices the slightly darker mark on the Faunus’s cheek. It had looked like a shadow at first, but Blake turning her head allows Yang to see it for what it is. _Is… that a bruise?_ Yang’s gaze narrows and flits quickly over the rest of the girl in the chair. She doesn’t see much else—maybe one that disappears beneath the girl’s collar, or is that just a shadow?—but Blake is wearing long sleeves, pants, has long hair… it’s hard to tell for sure.

“Have they been attacking her?”

Yang can feel Ni’s gaze on her as the question leaves her lips. Ni rolls his eyes. “Attack is a bit strong, Long. Don’t you think?” He shrugs. “So what if they roughed her up a little? God knows you’ve done the same thing to perps before.”

Yang bristles at the accusation, but she can’t technically refute it. Instead, she turns her attention back to the interrogation. Blake remains tense but stoic, her eyes following the movements of Emerald and Mercury through the mirror that is reflecting back at them. Yang notices a brief exchange of glances between the two specialists, and from the way Blake’s hands curl into fists against the arms of the chair, she caught it too.

Yang isn’t sure what it means, but it’s not too long before it doesn’t matter. Yang watches the color drain from Blake’s face with alarming speed. Her eyes fixate on the right corner of the room with an intensity that alarms Yang until the detective notices that…there’s nothing there.

“Y-you can’t be here,” Blake says, her eyes widening, her voice faltering with uncertainty. “Not you.”

She’s met with silence. The Faunus’s terrified gaze travels slowly around the room, seemingly fixated on something that only she can see. “No,” Blake says, her voice softer. She flinches so suddenly it makes Yang jump. Blake’s voice is barely above a whisper, but the microphone is still able to pick it up. “Adam, I’m…” She trails off.

 _Adam?_ _Who’s Adam?_

Yang tears her gaze away from Blake to look at the other two people in the room, wondering briefly if perhaps _they_ could see this Adam person that Blake was talking to. Mercury had stepped back from the back of Blake’s chair, leaning up against the wall and looking entirely disinterested. Emerald stands in the far corner of the room, her red eyes focusing intensely and carefully on Blake. Solely on Blake.

“They finally cracked her. ” The comment comes from Ni. Yang chances a glance at him, but he’s too bewildered and fascinated at watching the Faunus on the other side of the glass. The blonde detective turns her attention back to Emerald, and the sheer intensity of the girl’s stare causes the wheels to start turning in the back of Yang’s head.

 _Emerald has to be using her semblance_. It was the only thing that made any sense to the blonde. It explained the fixation the girl had on Blake. And if, by chance, Emerald’s semblance involved making people see things or people that weren’t actually there…

Blake’s voice briefly cuts through Yang’s thoughts. “Leave me alone!” she suddenly snarls, jumping out of her chair only to have Mercury lunge forward and grab her shoulder, shoving her back down harder than Yang thinks is necessary. The detective swallows hard and adverts her gaze. Yang’s hands ball briefly into fists, but she feels the technician watching her with surprise and she forces herself to relax her grip. Even then, she doesn’t want to watch any more. She leaves the room, pointedly ignoring Ni’s jab that he “didn’t think she’d have such a weak stomach for this kind of thing”.

Yang walks through the precinct; she passes her desk, and ignores Weiss calling her name by muttering something about getting some air. She can’t shake the rolling uneasiness in her stomach. Something isn’t right, nagging at the back of Yang’s mind like a loose thread.

The detective pushes through the front doors of the precinct and doesn’t stop walking until she’s standing in front of the steps of the Vale City Public Library six blocks away. Yang isn’t even sure how she ended up there, and she slows to a stop in front of the architecturally distinct building. The off-white marble pillars in the front makes Yang feel small. Perhaps it’s because she hadn’t been to the library since she was young and Taiyang would take her and Ruby during the summers. Regardless of the reason, the blonde stands on the stairs feeling an odd mix of nostalgia and urgency.

Yang still can’t shake the image of Blake’s wide amber eyes or the sound of her pleading with someone only she could see. Someone named Adam. And though Yang couldn’t explain it, every instinct the girl had told her that Emerald was the one making Blake hallucinate. Yang hurries up the stone steps and pushes through the thick oak door into the library.

The detective offers a brief, forced smile at the librarians behind the front desk that look up when she enters, but she’s already crossing the room towards the sign hanging from the ceiling that reads _Non-fiction_.

“Can I help you, dear?” Yang is stopped by feminine, aged voice. The woman—gray hair, bright blue eyes that peek up over the top of gold wire-rimmed glasses—is sliding a book between two others in the aisle that Yang had turned into.

Grateful for the help—it had been far too long since Yang had last been taught how to navigate the Monty Decimal System—Yang smiles. “I’m looking for some information on semblances. Do you have anything that might help me?”

The woman thinks for a moment, then holds up a finger. “I think I might know just the book.” She waves Yang to follow her, leading her through shelves upon shelves of books. Yang skims the titles as they pass them. Half of them are on subjects Yang hadn’t even heard of before.

“Ah, here we are,” the woman says, leaning down to the bottom shelf and sliding out a burgundy, leather-bound book with the title _The Function of Semblances_ scrawled in faded gold letters on the cover. “Why don’t you start here, dear? Anything I’ve ever wanted to know about semblances, I’ve been able to find in that book.”

Yang feels a rush of gratitude. “This is perfect. Thank you so much.” She smiles, looking up at the woman.

She gives her a warm smile. “Now, you just let me know if you need anything else at all.”

Yang promises to do so, and flips the cover open to skim the Table of Contents, letting her index finger trail down the words as she mutters them under her breath. “History of Semblances….Science of Semblances….Element-based…Mood-based…” Yang flips the page, the index continuing, when she sees it at the bottom of the second one. _Deception-projection_ ….. _pg. 902_. “That’s gotta be it,” Yang whispers to herself.

For reasons she can’t quite pin-point feels her heart start racing again as she thumbs through the book’s thick pages. She stops when she sees 902 printed at the bottom, _Deception-Projection Semblances_. Yang takes a seat on the floor, her eyes already flying over the words on the page. She isn’t sure how long she’s reading, but she’s on page 5, on the section labeled _Limitations_ , when she finds it. The missing piece that had kept Yang feeling uneasy.

 _Individuals are incapable of fabricating images, sounds, or smells that they themselves are unfamiliar with_.

Whoever this Adam character is, he clearly has a strong emotional effect on Blake. And if Emerald was able to project Adam onto Blake’s psyche, Emerald had to have known him too. Yang runs a hand down her face, staring at the words on the page as the same thought courses through her head. _So how does Emerald know who Adam is?_

…

**A/N: The claim I make at the very end is founded loosely in the idea I once read that the faces that appear in our dreams are all faces we’ve seen before. Additionally… I reason that being able to fabricate the image of someone specific to someone else likely requires some sort of visual reference, and even more so if interaction is involved. Such a limitation on the semblance has not been confirmed by canon, but I hope you guys don’t mind me making that kind of logic-leap for the sake of this fic.**

**Ack. I feel kinda iffy on this chapter. Please, please let me know what your thoughts are so far! Yang is starting to gain doubts, but how do YOU feel about what’s going on?**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I can’t believe you guys. You all blow me away with the response to this. Again, so many thanks to Masterpick for being a source of help and encouragement whenever I need it (and for offering an idea regarding a moment with Nora in this chapter).**

**To everyone: Long and crazy chapter ahead. Got your parachute this time? Good! See you at the end! *salutes, then jumps out of plane***

**…**

“Sir? I was wondering if I could talk to you.”

Yang strides into the chief’s office the next morning, rapping her knuckles against the door as she pushes it open. Nancy stands as the detective breezes past her desk positioned directly outside the door to Mortroach’s office. She doesn’t say anything.

The chief’s office has the same layout from before, but Yang can’t help but become acutely aware of the differences from when Ozpin had been in charge. The blinds seemed to be perpetually closed anymore, the pictures and mementos from years of police service had been swept from the walls and shelves. Even the smell was different. Where Ozpin’s occupancy of the space had left faint traces of coffee and paper, Mortroach is crisp spearmint and undertones of cigar smoke.

“Detective,” Mortroach says, looking briefly alarmed at the suddenness of the blonde’s entrance. He clicks something on the mouse of his computer before giving Yang his full attention. “My door is always open. What can I do for you?”

Yang opens her mouth to reply, but closes it. She turns back to the door, closing it quietly before looking back at the chief. “I have some concerns regarding Emerald Sustrai and Mercury Black.”

“You do?” His bright blue eyes look quizzically up at the blonde. “Well, I’m all ears, Ms. Xiao Long.”

Yang crosses her arms over her chest as she shifts her weight to the left foot. “Emerald has a deception-projection semblance, doesn’t she?” It’s not _really_ phrased as a question, but the detective’s lilac eyes bore into her boss as she waits for a response regardless.

Mortroach tilts his head in a slight nod. “She does. Very acute observation, detective. Though I can’t say that it surprises me that you picked up on such a detail.” He leans back in his chair, the leather squeaking faintly against his movement.

Yang stands with a rigidity in her spine. “I went to the library,” she continues, ignoring the compliment, “and I did some reading up on semblances. It said that someone cannot project something like that without having seen the person or thing beforehand. But from what I observed, Emerald projected someone who knew Blake Belladonna and had a close but unpleasant relationship with her.” _Y-you can’t be here…Adam…_

Mortroach arches an eyebrow, silent for a moment before carefully responding. “Detective, you probably read that in a very old book.”

 _What?_ “I…I suppose so,” Yang concedes with uncertainty, remembering how worn and faded the binding and pages had been. But what did that matter anyway?

“The science of semblances is constantly being rediscovered and adjusted.” He chuckles, waving a dismissive hand. “The latest theory I had read involved triggering the amygdala and other parts of the brain. The truth is, nobody _really_ knows how semblances work.”

“But—,” Yang tries to protest, only to be interrupted.

“Besides, detective, the idea that Emerald somehow knows this…Belladonna girl’s personal acquaintances seems a bit far-fetched, don’t you think?”

Yang is silent, her gaze narrowing for just a moment before she sighs. “I guess so.”

“You’re the best in the business, Miss Xiao Long.” Mortroach offers a smile. “And you were right to bring this to my attention. But try not to overthink things so much.”

“Yes, sir,” Yang says automatically. She turns and leaves the office without another word, closing the door again behind her. When she gets back to her desk, Yang runs a hand across her eyes. _Something isn’t right._

_…_

“Oh, did I tell you that I got a letter from Winter? She’s stationed currently in Mistral but she doesn’t think she’ll be there long.”

Weiss sits across from Yang in the otherwise empty breakroom at one of the round tables. The vending machine whirs quietly in the corner, the fluorescent lights staying off thanks to the natural light filtering in through the open window.

“She’s hoping to get some leave soon. If she can pull it off she says she’ll come visit for a few days before going home to Atlas.” There’s a long pause. “Yang?”

Weiss has an open bottle of iced tea sitting in front of her, the condensation starting to slip down the sides. Yang is staring at it, watching the ring of water form at the bottom of the glass bottle.

“Hello?”

Yang blinks as Weiss snaps her fingers in the detective’s face. “What? Oh. Sorry, Weiss. It’s cool you heard from your sister.”

Weiss shakes her head. “Something has you distracted. What’s up?”

Yang doesn’t answer right away. The silence is filled briefly by the sound of someone blaring their horn in the downtown afternoon traffic outside. The blonde sighs, leaning her elbows on the table. “Weiss,” she asks suddenly, “Why’d you join the force?”

The question makes the officer blink and tilt her head. “Um… mostly my family, I think,” Weiss replies once she recovers from the suddenness of the question. “I come from a long line of police officers. My mom was one. Her mom before her. I’ve always felt it’s my duty to uphold that legacy of justice.” Weiss raises her silver eyebrows. “Why do you ask?”

Yang opens her mouth to respond before the vibration of her scroll in her pocket demands her attention. She fishes it out and glances at the screen, surprised to see Jaune’s number flashing across the screen, in a call. She couldn’t remember the last time a member of JNPR had actually called her.

“Yang Xiao Long,” Yang answers the call.

“ _Yang. We need to meet.”_ There’s an urgency in Jaune’s voice.

“Slow down. Why? What’s going on?”

“ _We found something we think you need to know. It’s…best if we tell you in person.”_

The blonde frowns, glancing at Weiss who looks at her with expectant, faintly concerned eyes. “Okay,” she agrees. “I’ll be there.” Yang hears the line click before she has a chance to say anything else.

“What was that all about?” Weiss asks, taking another sip of tea from the bottle.

The blonde shoves her scroll back in her pocket and stands up, pushing the chair in behind her. “Looks like the evergreens have got something for me.” Weiss was familiar with JNPR. She’d met them during a case that she and Yang had worked on together months ago. But Yang was still careful about using JNPR’s names and acronym around the precinct. She had promised them that she’d do her best to keep their presence on the down-low as long as JNPR didn’t do anything drastically illegal. “I’m going to meet them.”

Weiss twists the top of her tea bottle back on and stands as well. “I’m coming with you.”

Yang was already halfway to the door before she stops and looks at the officer. “Weiss, you don’t have to do that.”

The girl rolls her eyes. “I know I don’t _have_ to. But I’m going to anyway.”

Yang sighs but nods. “Alright. Then let’s go.”

…

“Officer Schnee! Hello again,” Pyrrha greets as the two girls step into the motel room. Yang stifles an amused chuckle at Weiss’s faint look of disgust at their surroundings—the peeling paint, the horrendous bedspread, the faint musty smell from the worn carpet—but the moment is short lived as the detective takes in the anxious bounce Jaune has, Nora’s sobered demeanor, the piles upon piles of books that litter the floor.

“Hello, Pyrrha,” Weiss greets cordially as she steps further in the room, her foot accidentally knocking over one of the book stacks.

“What was so urgent, guys?” Yang asks as she closes the door behind her.

Ren glances at Weiss, his expression careful and guarded. “It’s regarding your new Chief of Police.”

“Mortroach?” Weiss asks, surprised as she glances between Yang and the members of JNPR. Yang takes a seat on the edge of one of the beds, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and her hands clasped in front of her.

Ren nods once. “Yang mentioned in the group text among us that Chief Ozpin had recently been replaced by a man named Nick Mortroach.”

Yang remembers that, but she still feels as confused as Weiss looks. “And you…what? Looked him up?”

Ren nods as Nora speaks up, “We told you we were bored.”

“And what we found,” Jaune interjects, rubbing the back of his neck, “Well… I guess more accurately, what we _didn’t_ find…”

Yang shakes her head quickly. “Wait, what do you mean?”

Lie Ren’s sharp pink gaze locks onto the detective’s lilac ones. “When you mentioned his name, I tried to do some research. There’s no record.”

Weiss sets her hands on her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she snaps.

Ren glances at her. “Miss Schnee, you remember my area of expertise. I looked into Nick Mortroach. Nobody exists by that name.”

Yang frowns, her head spinning with this new information. _How was that possible?_ Yang isn’t even sure what to say or ask, the words echoing in her head. _Nobody exists by that name_. “Are you guys absolutely positive? That’s… a big statement to make, guys.”

Jaune nods, but Pyrrha is the one who speaks up. “On the off chance that Ren couldn’t find a paper trail because it was literal paper, I did some research of my own. Hence the… mess here,” she nods to the books on the floor. “There’s nothing.”

Jaune’s voice has a hard, decisive edge to it. “Nick Mortroach doesn’t exist. There’s no record of him anywhere. Period.”

Yang sighs heavily, running a hand down her face as she flops back on the bed and stares at the ceiling for a moment. In the background, Yang can hear Weiss trying to rationalize, but she’s grasping at straws. Yang knows it, and she can tell even Weiss knows it too.

“That can’t be right,” Weiss is saying. “Of course Mortroach exists. It’s not like someone could just make up a name and get to be chief. The world doesn’t work like that. There’s gotta be some kind of record somewhere, right? Did you guys actually check _everywhere_? If you’re gonna make a claim like that, you have to have some sort of explanation for it, don’t you?”

“Weiss,” Yang says. The white-haired girl falls silent. Her light blue eyes are wide and bewildered, and she’s shaking her head so hard a few stray strands of hair fall out of her off-center ponytail. Yang continues, sitting up again. “I trust these guys. They wouldn’t tell us something like this if they weren’t absolutely certain.”

Yang sees the slight upturn at the corner of each member of JNPR’s mouths before Weiss interjects incredulously, “Yang, this doesn’t make any _sense_.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Yang agrees. “That doesn’t mean they’re wrong.”

“So….” Nora says with an uncharacteristic hesitation. “What’s your next step?”

Yang is silent for a moment, her eyes flitting around the room as she sorts through her thoughts. If a Nick Mortroach doesn’t exist anywhere, then their chief isn’t who he says he is. “We know who the chief isn’t. We’ve gotta figure out who he _is_.”

Yang can practically _feel_ Weiss’s gaze narrow at her. “What are you implying, Yang?”

“I’m gonna sneak into his office,” Yang says with conviction. “See if I can’t get some answers.”

Nora’s face lights up almost comically, and she jumps up from her seat to reach for a briefcase under the bed beside Yang. “Wanna use any of these?” She unclicks the case to reveal a multitude of lock-picking sets and tools.

Yang chuckles and shakes her head. “I was thinking something more covert than breaking in, Nora. But I appreciate the offer.”

Weiss edges closer to them, eyeing the briefcase. “A hammer?” Weiss asks. “How does a hammer help with lockpicking?”

Nora grins, then shrugs. “Sometimes locks can’t be picked.”

…

The bottom right corner of Yang’s computer screen tells her that it’s almost 3:00 PM when she hears the heavy thud of the chief’s office door closing. The blonde peeks up over the top of the cubicle wall to see the man Yang had thought to be Mortroach leaning over his assistant’s desk and speaking in a hushed voice to her. Nancy nods along, occasionally shooting the man a silent look that Yang couldn’t quite decipher.

The detective stands, pretends to stretch, and grabs her black-and-yellow thermos and a file folder before walking down the makeshift hallway. She shares a glance with Weiss, who looks wary. _Be careful_ , she tells Yang silently, who nods in reply without breaking stride. She approaches the office just as Mortroach walks away from Nancy’s desk and down towards the interrogation rooms.

Yang had expected Nancy to follow—she seems to follow him everywhere—but she stays at her desk and looks up as the blonde approaches.

“Hey, Nancy!” Yang greets, giving her a friendly wave. “Is Mortroach in?” Nancy shakes her head. “Oh, I wanted to drop off this file for him.” Yang lifts the folder in her hand.

The assistant’s hazel eyes look up from her computer as she smiles cordially at the detective. She extends a flat palm, motioning with her fingers for Yang to leave the file with her. Yang feels something in her sink a little, but she tries again. “You don’t have to do that, Nancy. I can just leave it on his desk. It’s no problem.”

The girl—dark hair tied in a loose bun—shakes her head, looking faintly apologetic and motioning with her hand again. Down the hallway, Mortroach stops at the door Yang knows to be the observation room for Blake. Yang sighs to herself, forcing a smile.

“Well, you’re making my job easier, Nancy,” Yang replies. She places the file in the assistant’s hand.

Yang hears the door close behind Mortroach right before she sees it. It’s brief. So quick that if Yang hadn’t been paying attention, she probably would have missed it. A part of her wonders if she’s just making it up in her head. But she swears she sees Nancy’s eyes change colors.

They flicker from their warm hazel into two different colors: one a pale pink, the other a dark brown.

The colors hold like that a brief moment before Nancy blinks, and then they’re back to their normal caramel color. Yang’s brow furrows briefly before she shakes her head and smiles again, turning and walking back to her desk. She doesn’t even take notice of Weiss’s puzzled expression thrown in her direction as she passes the officer’s desk on the way back.

_What the hell?_

…

When Yang finds herself in the observation room later that evening, she almost doesn’t recognize the girl on the other side of the glass.

Even the chairs had been removed from the room—Yang doesn’t know why, and she’s not sure she wants to ask—but Blake sits on the floor with her back against the wall opposite the mirror. She has her knees pulled up to her chest, her cat ears drooped so low they blend into the girl’s matted, tangled hair. Her wrists, propped up on her knees, look red, rubbed raw against the metal cuffs. Yang doesn’t have to look at her long to see the new bruises, dark and angry against the girl’s pale skin. Blake’s dulled eyes stare hollowly at the one-way glass, the dark circles around them making them look even more sunken than before.

Yang swallows, glancing at Weiss beside her. Even Weiss looks faintly and briefly alarmed.

In the interrogation room, Emerald and Mercury stand in opposite corners. Emerald has a nail file, rubbing away at her index finger on her left hand. “Are you ready to try again?” she asks in a faintly bored tone.

A heavy silence fills the room before Blake replies in a cold, quiet voice. “Is that all you’ve got?” Blake takes in a slow breath. It shakes just a little on it’s way in, but her voice is steady when she adds, “Because I can do this all day.”

Despite herself, Yang’s mouth quirks in a brief, almost-smirk at the reply.

Mercury crosses the room in three strides, and crouches down on the balls of his feet so that he was level with Blake. “Don’t worry, princess,” he says. “We’re just getting started.”

Blake’s head suddenly snaps towards the door. Weiss jumps, but Yang was waiting for it. One quick glance at Emerald’s intense focus on Blake and Yang is pretty sure she knows what she’s about to watch. _Adam again?_ Yang wonders to herself, but the thought it quickly dispersed.

“M- _Mom_?” Blake’s voice sounds abruptly small. Her cat ears twitch upwards with hope.

Yang clenches her jaw against the flare of anger she feels. _It’s not real, Blake_ , she wants to tell her. In the back of her mind, past the emotions, Yang wonders how on earth Emerald knows Blake’s mom. Mortroach had told her that it wasn’t necessary for Emerald to know who she projects, but his explanation didn’t sit right. More than that, Yang didn’t even know anymore who Mortroach actually was. She can feel Weiss glancing between her and the room on the other side of the glass, likely as confused as Yang was the first time she saw Blake hallucinate. But the detective doesn’t reply. She doesn’t even take her eyes off of Blake.

The dark-haired girl looks at the door again, startled. “Dad? You… can’t be here,” Blake is saying, shaking her head, her eyes trained on the floor directly beside her. There’s a brief pause, then Blake shakes her head harder in response to something only she can see. When she looks up again, Yang can see the beginnings of tears in the Faunus’s eyes.

“Mom, you don’t mean that….”

Weiss’s voice, quiet and uneasy, cuts into Yang’s thoughts. “Yang, what’s going on? Who is Blake talking to?”

Yang’s hands curl into fists as she grits out, “Emerald Sustrai has a deception projection semblance.”

Weiss is silent, but her eyes widen in understanding, and officer suddenly looks faintly sick.

“NO!” Blake’s scream jolts everyone in both rooms except for Emerald. “LEAVE THEM ALONE!” Blake yanks her hands apart in a clear effort to break out of her cuffs, but all it succeeds it in cutting further into already raw skin. The Faunus’s eyes are wide in a look that Yang could only describe as a stomach-turning combination of horror and devastation. Whatever Emerald was making her watch, a part of Yang felt grateful that she couldn’t see it happen.

The tears in the other girl’s eyes flood over as a small, quiet sob ripples up through her body. “ _Please_ ,” Blake’s voice cracks as she turns her head away and closes her eyes. “I’ll tell you whatever you want. Just… stop. Don’t hurt them. Make it stop.”

Yang’s stomach rolls at the smile that pulls slowly across Emerald’s face. The detective swallows the bile down.

Mercury stands above the Faunus, his shoes nudging her hip. A couple drops of blood fall from the small cuts around Blake’s wrists as he says, “Tell us where you put the money you stole.”

Blake pulls her knees up tighter to her chest, wiping fruitlessly at her cheeks in an effort to save some face. She shakes her head. “I don’t have it. I told you.”

Mercury’s gaze sharpens, icing over into scathing harshness. “So where _is_ it?”

Blake’s inhale is shaky. “I… I gave it away.” Blake hangs her head in defeat, her hair falling across her face. “To people in Menagerie who didn’t have enough to get by. The number of us were increasing faster than we knew what to do with. I… I couldn’t let them starve. I had to do something.”

Mercury scoffs. Emerald rolls her eyes as she says, “C’mon, if you’re gonna lie you can come up with a better story than _that_. Looks like we _aren’t_ done yet.”

“It’s the truth!” Blake pleads, looking up and at the two of them before turning her gaze at the mirror. Yang stiffens as the Faunus’s amber gaze lands seemingly _on Yang_. Her eyes are just slightly below locking with Yang’s, and even though the detective knows better, she can’t help but feel that maybe Blake knows she’s watching. That her claiming it’s the truth wasn’t meant for Emerald and Mercury, but for…well, Yang.

But what startles Yang the most is that Yang actually _believes her_. She can’t explain why, but she does. Every gut instinct the blonde possesses urges her to believe Blake Belladonna.

…

The detective still feels like the world is spinning around her as she packs up her bag. She moves on autopilot, shoving files into her bag and grabbing her scroll of the desk. She flips her desk lamp off. Gives a half-hearted, absent wave to Neptune as she walks past his desk on her way out. Weiss joins her silently in the elevator, but the other girl’s presence barely registers with the blonde. She nods a farewell to Velvet, whose slight, inquiring head-tilt is emphasized by her rabbit ears. She brushes it off.

 _Rewind,_ Yang tells herself as she walks towards the bus-stop on the corner. _Take stock. What do you know?_

She knows that Emerald had to know Blake, or at least Blake’s family and this guy named Adam. Yang doesn’t believe for one second Mortroach’s claim that the information was out of date.

Speaking of Mortroach, Yang thinks to herself, she knows that he isn’t who he said he is. _But that he continuously has an excuse for everything_. Emerald’s semblance. The locked door. All of it. She knows he has his office practically guarded by his assistant Nancy, which also reminds Yang of earlier that day with the odd eye-color change thing.

And most importantly, perhaps, Yang knows Blake was telling the truth about what she did with the money. Or if she didn’t technically know that for sure, Yang had never been failed by her gut instinct, which was _screaming_ at her—against all reason—to believe the Faunus.

“Hey,” Weiss says, cutting through Yang’s thoughts by elbowing her gently. “You’re thinking awfully hard about something.”

“Yeah,” Yang says slowly, her mind still reeling. Weiss arches an eyebrow expectantly, but the bus pulls up to the stop and Yang boards without elaborating for the officer. Still, the answer is echoing in the detective’s mind the entire ride back to her apartment.

_I’m gonna break Blake Belladonna out._

_…_

**A/N: Hoo. That chapter was a bit of a doozy. Everybody land on their feet okay? Let me know what your thoughts are, please!! I live for feedback.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Sorry this took so long, guys. It was a challenging chapter to write, dealing a lot with headspace and emotional nuances that I wasn’t sure how overt to make… and I wanted to give you guys the best I could. Additionally, I had to deal with a lot of computer malfunctions. Lastly, sorry that this chapter is a little shorter… Y’all are the absolute best. Thank you so much.**

**Again, my thanks to Masterpick. Especially with helping me navigate this chapter.**

…

When Yang Xiao Long gets home that night, she’s surprised to see her sister Ruby still awake. The lights are off, but the television casts the room in a flickering, late-night glow. The younger girl has her legs folded up under her, a half-eaten plate of chocolate chip cookies and an empty glass of milk on the coffee table in front of her. Ruby’s wearing pajama pants and a blank tank top, Zwei’s head nestled sleepily in her lap. The corgi’s ears perk up and twitch as the blonde opens the door and softly closes it behind her.

“Hey, sis,” Ruby greets.

“Hey, Ruby.” Yang’s voice is distant. Quieter than usual.

The dark-haired girl sits up a little straighter, her brow furrowing. “Long day, huh?”

“Something like that.” Yang shrugs her bag off her shoulder and lets it hit the wood floor with a thud. She sighs.

Ruby cocks her head. “Wanna talk about it?” Her silver eyes are bright with equal parts concern and curiosity.

Yang doesn’t look at her, her lilac gaze trained instead on the corner of the rug under the coffee table. “Ruby… do you remember what Uncle Qrow used to say about crossroads?”

The blonde can feel her sister watching her closely, even as her soft soprano voice floats through the darkness. “Yeah. He used to say that everyone comes to one at some point in their lives. That the decisions a person makes when they reach their crossroad is the real mark of who they are…”

Yang swallows as Ruby mutes the TV. She still doesn’t look at her sister, instead crossing her arms over her chest and letting her gaze travel to the window next to the door. Out over the never-sleeping city skyline. “For the longest time, I was convinced that my crossroad was when I joined Vale P.D.” Yang’s voice stays uncharacteristically quiet. Heavy with the weight of the world. “And that the choice I made that day was the right one.”

Ruby frowns. “Yang, what are you—,”

“You should get out of town.” Yang finally meets her sister’s gaze. “Tonight.”

The younger girl shakes her head quickly, exchanging a glance with Zwei. “Yang.” Ruby’s voice is low and serious. “What’s going on?”

A scoff catches silently in the back of Yang’s throat. _What’s going on?_ She’d been asking herself that question too many times to count recently. Yang’s arms fall to her sides, her fingers curling. “There’s something… I… have to do.” The words come in broken, disjointed fragments. Splintered with uncertainty. “It’s going to be ugly, sis. And it’s not the kind of thing you come back from.”

Ruby is quiet for a while, absently scratching Zwei’s head right between his ears. “This…whatever this is…is big, isn’t it?”

Yang nods. Small things didn’t shift the ground beneath your feet, and she felt like she was standing in the middle of a full-blown earthquake. “Yeah,” she eventually replies. “This is big.”

“And illegal.” It’s not a question. Her little sister _knows_ that, and Yang can tell just from one fleeting glance at her sister’s eyes.

“I… I have to do what’s right.” The waver in her voice—missed by anybody who didn’t know the older girl—is not lost on her sister.

Ruby offers a small smile. “I know.”

She means it as a compliment—Yang knows that—but it doesn’t stop the hard exhale that’s blown out from the blonde like a pressure valve releasing. She leans her forehead in her hands. “My first duty had always been to the police force and the city of Vale.” _Unwaveringly_.

“Nope.”

Yang looks up at her sister in surprise. “What?”

The younger girl still has that small, soft smile. “You just said that your first duty was to the force and the city. But I was there for your swearing in, Yang.” Ruby is looking at her intently. “And when you said your oath, your promise was…?”

Yang pauses. “To truth and justice.”

Ruby nods. “To truth and justice. And what did Dad tell you afterward?”

The blonde’s mouth quirks in an almost-smile. She remembers that conversation with surprising clarity, the memory flooding back to her as she stares absently at the thin layer of milk still left in the glass on the table. “That my oath was also to myself. That if that was my crossroad that Uncle Qrow had mentioned when we were younger, my decisions would make me who I am.”

Ruby lets the silence sit comfortably between them for a few moments before she adds softly, “Yang, I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever you’re doing… count me in.”

The older girl looks up, startled. “Ruby, no—,”

“I want to, sis.”

Yang is shaking her head before Ruby has even finished the sentence. “You should get out of dodge. The fallout--,”

Ruby reaches out and grabs her sister’s arm. “Yang. I’ve got your back.”

…

“I’m sorry, _what?_ ”

The question would be shrill if it hadn’t come instead as a harsh, grating whisper. Weiss grabs the cloth napkin from her lap and wipes her mouth clean of the water she’d nearly choked on following Yang telling her what she was planning to do. The two girls were sitting in a bistro four blocks from the precinct for lunch the following day.

Weiss’s wide, incredulous gaze doesn’t surprise Yang, but she sighs. “Weiss, even you can’t deny the facts.”

The white-haired girl is shaking her head. “You wanna know the _facts_? What about that...that _Faunus_ stole millions and millions of dollars in cash, art, and jewels? She’s a criminal in the eyes of the law, Yang.”

“And who represents the law, Weiss? Who do we take orders from?” Yang keeps her voice low as a few patrons a couple tables over glance worriedly at their table. “Mortroach? We don’t even know who he is.”

“There’s probably a perfectly valid explanation for that.” Even as she says it, Yang can tell by her wavering gaze that the officer doesn’t believe her own words.

“There’s not, and you know it,” the blonde shoots back, but softens her next words. “I know this isn’t easy to swallow. But you saw the same thing I did in that...interrogation.” Yang hesitates on the word. It fits oddly in her mouth. Whatever they had witnessed the other day--and Yang even before then-- _interrogation_ didn’t seem to fit it.

Weiss is silent, averting her gaze. There’s a slight fall in her shoulders, the faintly sick look returning briefly to her eyes at the memory. The clinking of silverware and quiet, amiable chatter fill the restaurant and yet somehow don’t seem to pierce the weight that settles over their table.

Yang continues, her voice both soft and decisive. “What they’re doing isn’t right. And I know you know that too.”

The bright sunlight streams in through the window, reflecting off the melting ice-cubes in Yang’s glass of water. It casts a refracted pattern on the pristine white table cloth. Weiss sighs heavily, her voice dripping in hesitation. “I don’t know, Yang…What you’re talking about is…”

“I know,” the blonde replies solemnly. Her lilac gaze reflects the earnestness of her voice as she adds, “Weiss, the other day you told me that you joined the force to uphold your family’s legacy of justice.”

Weiss opens her mouth to respond, but Yang presses further.

“When it comes down to the wire, where does that legacy lead you?”

The silence that meets the end of that question lands hard and heavy on the table between them. Weiss picks up her spoon despite there being no food on the table and holds it precariously between her thumb and forefinger, looking intently at the afternoon sunlight glinting on the dome-curve of the bright silver.

“Okay,” Weiss says after an eternity, quiet and confident. Her soft, light blue eyes flit up to lock onto Yang’s. “Count me in.”

…

Yang spends the rest of their lunch break explaining to Weiss her plan. The other girl nods along, occasionally asking a question or offering a suggestion. Otherwise, Weiss listens quietly and carefully as she eats her chicken Caesar salad. Yang walks through her explanation slowly and carefully. She could see in the way Weiss chews slower than normal that she was still mulling over the way her world had just spun a complete 180. Yang was all too familiar with the feeling.

After lunch, the two women head back to the precinct and go about their job. Yang spends the next couple of hours helping officers with research, typing up reports, and trying to calm the slight anxious bounce in her leg as the time ticks by slowly. She can’t stop her gaze flickering to the clock on the bottom right-hand corner of the computer screen.

Somewhere in the bullpen—too far for Yang to know the exact source—a phone rings. The clicking of keyboards blends monotonously with the office small-talk. A girl laughs too long at the joke her office crush tells a group of coworkers. In one of the nearby cubicles, a chair squeaks as someone tries to lean back against the cushion.

It’s all so… normal.

And Yang? Well, Yang was about to give up that “normal” for some girl she didn’t even know. A girl that less than a week ago had helped hunt down and arrest. How quickly things had changed.

When the clock at the bottom of the screen reads 4:14 PM, Yang sees Weiss stand up in her cubicle, her white ponytail peeking up over the top of the wall. Her heels click softly down the thinly carpeted floor. Yang counts to thirty. Then she stands up too, snatching a sheet of paper off her desk.

Weiss disappears down one hallway, and Yang turns left into a different one. The faded beige walls are decorated simply with framed newspaper clippings of successful cases closed by the precinct throughout the years. Black frames, white matting, headlines in bold upper-case print. Once upon a time, Yang had thought she’d end up on one of these walls.

The blonde makes another left turn into the hallway that connects to the one Weiss had walked down. Yang slows, leaning up against the wall as she comes to the intersection. She can just barely make out Weiss’s voice.

“Oh, Chief Mortroach!” Weiss feigns surprise. “How are you, sir?”

“I am quite well, Officer Schnee. Quite well indeed.” His tenor voice resonates better in the hallway than Weiss’s.

“That’s excellent to hear.” Yang hears the quiet jingle of metal. “I was wondering, sir, if this key belonged to you? I found it on the floor of the bullpen and thought it looked a lot like the one you have for the interrogation rooms.”

When Yang hears the faint patting and rustle of fabric, she smiles to herself. It’s exactly what she’d been hoping he’d do. Ask if he’s lost his key, and he’ll check. He hasn’t, of course, lost his key. The key Weiss doubtlessly has in her hand is her own apartment key. But it looks close enough to cause doubt. And where there’s doubt, there’s the need for reassurance.

So he’ll pat his pocket. Where he keeps the key to the interrogation room. Just to be sure.

“I’m afraid not,” comes the reply. “My key is accounted for.” There’s a brief pause. “Did you need anything else, Miss Schnee?”

“Actually, I had one more question.” That was Yang’s cue. She looks down at the sheet as she rounds the corner. Both Weiss and Mortroach have their backs to her, with Weiss’s hand coming up behind the man’s back and flashing five fingers at Yang.

_One finger means front-left pocket. Two means front-right. Three is back-left. Four is back-right._

_And five: outside suit jacket pocket._

“I got this report from one of the interns, but there’s a page missing. I wouldn’t usually bother you with this kind of thing, but it was the page with your signature, so—,”

“Weiss!” Yang calls out, flashing a friendly smile as the two look over their shoulders at her. She steps up between them, holding out the sheet of paper. “I think this is the page you’re missing right?” Yang places the piece of paper on the open folder—Weiss holding one end, Mortroach holding the other—as she reaches around with her other hand to slip her middle and index finger deftly into Mortroach’s suit jacket pocket.

Yang feels the metal brush against her fingers, but it slips. Before Mortroach can move, Yang touches his forearm. _Misdirect and distract_. “Hey,” she says, “Did you get that file I left with Nancy yesterday?” Yang slips the key quickly between her fingers and removes her hand, folding the key inside her palm.

“Ah, yes. Thank you for that, Miss Xiao Long.”

Yang smiles at him. “Great, I’m glad you got it. And that we got that little slip up all figured out,” she adds, nodding to the sheet of paper she’d just given Weiss. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”

“Yeah, thanks, Yang,” Weiss replies cordially. “Sorry for the confusion, sir.”

Yang is already walking down the hall away from them. She slips Mortroach’s interrogation room key into her front-left pocket.

_One obstacle down. A lot more to go._

…

**A/N: Ack. *hides my eyes, peeks through my fingers* What did you think?**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Hey guys. I’m sorry again for the wait. It’s just really important for me, during this time of the year, that I make sure I’m doing plenty of things to take care of myself mentally. I love writing, but sometimes I know that’s not what will help me and I need to take a break. So if my updates are coming a little bit slower… thank you for your patience and understanding.**

**Thank you again to Masterpick, for helping with this chapter and life in general.**

**…**

The office operates like clockwork that night.

_7:00 PM:  Mortroach and Nancy—or whoever they are—lock the office and leave for the night._

_8:15 PM: Nighttime security begins their shift._

_9:14 PM: Emerald Sustrai and Mercury Black walk through the bullpen to the elevator._

_9:15 PM: Yang’s heart begins hammering hard and loud in her chest._

The bullpen is mostly empty, a few officers and detectives here and there forced to work late into the night. Outside, the city skyline illuminates their skyscrapers as if trying to make its own starlight. Inside… Yang’s cubicle has been cleaned meticulously. Yang figures it’s probably the cleanest it’s been since… well, since she moved desks after her promotion. Stray Post-It notes have been discarded, the trash emptied, folders and reports tucked neatly into the drawer. Yang straightens the slightly crooked black stapler on the corner of her desk. She sighs.

The blonde hears the scrape of Weiss’s heels against the thin carpeting as she approaches Yang’s desk.

Weiss doesn’t have to say anything. Yang reaches into her front left pocket and pulls out the key.

She breathes in. She breathes out.

When she stands up and turns around, Weiss’s light blue eyes read plain as day. _You sure about this?_

Yang nods once, standing up.

She can feel the sharp edge of the cold metal of the interrogation room key digging painfully into the palm of her hand, but she doesn’t loosen her grip as she and Weiss make their way towards the hallway that branches from the bullpen. If she’s being honest with herself, a small part of Yang is worried she’ll drop it, someone will see it, and everything will be over before it’s really gotten started.

Yang can’t help but feel grateful for Weiss’s graceful confidence. She had decided to keep everyone else out of their plan. Even when Weiss had asked about getting JNPR involved— _this is in the realm of their expertise, Yang­,_ Weiss had said—Yang refused. She had promised the four of them that she’d keep them out of the line of fire from the precinct as long as they stayed out of trouble. They’d kept up their end of that bargain, and even more than that, had helped Yang time and time again. She didn’t want to risk putting them in that position. In fact, they didn’t even know about the plan at all. Nobody did except for the two girls about to carry it out.

“Yang,” Weiss says in a low voice after they turn the corner into the hallway.

Yang looks up and feels her heart drop. The room in question was about halfway down the incredibly long hallway, and outside the door…. Stood a guard. Tall, sturdy-build, older than Yang but younger than her father, with a silver wedding band on his left ring finger that caught the lighting in the hall. His name is Marcus. Yang knows him.

“They posted a guard?” Yang says, her voice hushed but not breaking stride. Weiss continues to walk alongside her. “Why?”

“Probably think she’s a flight risk.”

“She’s literally always surrounded by police. Where could she go?” Yang’s question is met with Weiss raising her eyebrows pointedly. _You see the irony, Yang?_ Yang shakes her head. “Right.” She scans the hallway quickly, then jerks her head. “Follow my lead.”

The two girls detour through the gridded network of intersecting hallways, coming to a stop just short of the corner that connected back to the hallway with the guard. Yang presses her back up against the wall, peeking around the corner before pulling back. Weiss watches the opposite end of the hallway as Yang opens the broom closet beside her.

Weiss looks momentarily confused. Yang shoots her a teasing wink. “Hey!” Yang suddenly shouts, loud enough to sound sincere without raising alarm through the entirety of the precinct. Yang deepens her voice just enough to disguise it a little. “I need some help!” Yang gives Weiss small shove. “ _Run_ ,” she hisses.

Understanding alights in the other girl’s eyes and Weiss takes off down the hallway—away from the guard they can hear approaching—as Yang backs into the broom closet and pulls the door almost-shut behind her.

Yang leaves just enough of a crack to peer out of, the rapid thudding of heavy footsteps getting louder as the guard responds to the call for help. A shadow passes on the floor, and then the guard hurries past the broom closet door, slowing to a confused stop at the now empty, beige hallway.

The blonde quickly and silently steps out of the closet and wraps her arms around the guard’s neck in a hold that Yang had learned from her dad before she left to move into the city. _It’s calle a blood-choke. It won’t kill him, Yang_ , her dad had assured her. _Just put him out for about 20 seconds. Enough time for you to get away._ Or, in this case, to lock him in the broom closet.

The guard tries to gasp, but Yang knows that she’s stifling his airway as well as cutting bloodflow. Frantically, he tries to throw an elbow, kick Yang’s legs out, pry her arms off of him… but Yang holds, silently apologizing and counting the seconds. His salt-and-pepper hair smells like cigarette smoke and soap.

Yang hasn’t quite said _five_ in her head when the guard goes limp. Yang does a quick check of her surroundings before dragging him back into the broom closet. She grabs the extra folding chair leaning up against the shelving unit and closes the door, wedging the chair underneath the handle. He’ll wake up in less than thirty seconds, but he won’t be able to get out. Not easily, anyway.

Yang closes her eyes, taking a brief second to catch her breath. Calm her racing heartbeat. Then she pulls the interrogation room key out of her pocket again and turns the corner down the hallway.

…

When Yang gets into the room, she can’t help the sharp intake of breath at the sight before her.

Blake is slumped on her side on the floor, curled into herself with her back pressed against the wall. The black vest she usually wore was torn in some places, and now that Yang was a little closer, she could see bruises against the girl’s ribcage partially concealed by the fabric. There was a small cut surrounded by an angry purple-and-yellow bruise on her cheekbone.

“Blake?”

The Faunus jolts, her sunken eyes flying open. She sits up, using her feet to frantically shift herself away from the blonde. Yang sees her pupils constrict, her cat ears flattening against her head despite the exhaustion that is etched carefully into every corner and edge the girl has. “ _Yang_? What… what are you doing here?” Blake’s voice is raw and rough. “I thought…I thought they said that was it for the night…”

Yang feels her stomach sink into her shoes. _She thinks I’m here to hurt her._ Yang takes a few steps closer, reaching into her back pocket. “Wait, Blake, I’m not going to—,”

Blake presses herself against the wall at the far end of the room. “I don’t… I told you everything….” As Yang crouches down in front of her, one hand out, Blake throws her arms up to protect her face, the metal jingle of the handcuffs seeming to echo in the otherwise empty interrogation room.

“Blake…” Yang pulls the handcuffs key out of her pocket. After all, she _was_ still wearing the pair that Yang had clasped around her hands a lifetime ago. Blake won’t look at her, and Yang swallows. As gently as she can, Yang takes Blake’s hands in her own.

The blonde’s hands are rough. Calloused from years of police work, motorcycle rides, training. Each scar its own story, each callous with its own reason. Her entire life etched in her hands as if physical evidence that Yang has always been a woman of action and excitement. But Blake’s?

Blake’s hands are dry. Cracked. Bruised and split in some places. But somehow… Yang knows they are worn and weathered for entirely different reasons. Blake’s hands has scars of her own—Yang can see the way the lines catch the fluorescent light above them—but nothing about those scars tell Yang “rough and tumble” like hers do. They are… something else.

Constellations on pale white skin.

Yang blinks hard, coming out of her thoughts. She quickly unclicks the cuffs and gingerly pries them off of the Faunus’s wrists, mindful of the raw, red rings they left on her skin. The blonde pockets both the cuffs and the key.

Blake’s eyes are wide and confused, but she lowers her hands. “What…what are you doing?”

“Getting you out of here.”

“You’re what?”

“Can you walk?”

Blake doesn’t reply, but she stares at Yang for a moment longer before trying to push herself to her feet. Yang stands with her, noticing the pained grimace on Blake’s face as she stands. The Faunus releases a hard exhale as she straightens up. She lasts about two and a half seconds before she starts shaking, and another second before her knees give out from under her completely.

“Whoa there,” Yang says, catching the girl’s shoulders. She tries to ignore the instinctive, violent flinch Blake does when she grabs her. “Easy now. I’ve got ya.” Yang wraps Blake’s arm around her shoulders.

“Yang.” Blake’s voice is strained slightly. “Why…why are you helping me?”

Yang licks her lips, swallowing past the lump in her throat before she locks gazes with her. “Because you were right.”

“But—,”

Weiss’s voice interrupts her. “Yang.” She appears in the doorway, slightly short of breath, looking at the watch on her wrist. “Nightly security rounds. Two minutes.”

“We gotta go,” Yang says, casting a glance at the Faunus beside her. Blake looks faintly startled to see Weiss, but she recovers quickly and nods, leaning a bit heavier on Yang as the two walk out of the room.

Once they’re out, Yang closes the door behind them. She fishes the interrogation room key out of her pocket, a wipe out of the other, and locks the door again before wiping the key free of prints and slipping it into the room under the door.

“Minute and a half,” Weiss urges, and Yang nods understanding as they turn down the hallway. _90 seconds_.

Blake’s weight slows Yang down a bit, but the adrenaline rushing through her ears with the roar of an ocean helps make up for it. The blonde keeps a mental countdown of the seconds as they hurry past the rows of framed newspaper headlines and grainy black-and-white photographs.

_20…19… has this hallway always been so long?_

They’re aiming for the stairwell at the end of it, the red EXIT sign glowing like a mock finish line. Blake’s feet drag against the carpet with clumsy, pained footsteps. The Faunus is breathing harder than the rest of them, but she’s keeping up. In the back of her mind, Yang hopes that they’re not making any of her injuries worse.

_9…8…7…_

“ _Charlie, that’s probably not a sign that she was into you…_ ”

“ _Ah, shut up, John. What do you know anyway?”_

Yang can hear the two security guards’ conversation approaching from an intersecting hallway. A couple more feet and they’d be at the door…

_4…3…_

Yang throws her free shoulder into the push bar across the door. It’s loud, but the door opens and wide and fast. The three girls stumble through it, letting it slam closed behind them.

_1._

Yang closes her eyes, breathing hard. When she opens them, she sees Weiss and Blake both staring at her with surprised, relieved eyes.

Yang throws them a grin, the adrenaline of such a close call making her oddly giddy. Weiss rolls her eyes, but a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. Blake is still staring at her.

“Not out of the woods yet,” Yang says, lowering her voice to keep it from echoing in the stairwell. She nods in the direction they need to go. “Down these stairs and then we’re practically home free.” She glances at Blake. “You ready for this?” she asks. Even Yang isn’t quite sure what she means by “this”; whether she’s talking about doing a flight of stairs or something else.

Blake nods.

But when the three girls turn to walk down the stairs, they’re stopped by a figure at the bottom of it. Small frame. Tall rabbit ears that accentuate the slight head tilt she does when she looks up from her clipboard. “Yang?”

“Velvet?”                        

…

**A/N: Sorry for the wait again. Please, please, please let me know what you’re thinking about this so far!!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: From the bottom of my heart, thank you for the support, you guys. It means the world. Sorry this took so long (I know, I sound like a broken record), but I hope you enjoy! Lemme know what you thought!**

**My gratitude to Masterpick. He did not look over this particular chapter just because he’s _extremely_ swamped right now, but his help with brainstorming and editing everything else has been a massive, massive help. Highly recommend reading his stuff, if you haven’t yet. ** **J**

**…**

_Previously:_

_But when the three girls turn to walk down the stairs, they’re stopped by a figure at the bottom of it. Small frame. Tall rabbit ears that accentuate the slight head tilt she does when she looks up from her clipboard. “Yang?”_

_“Velvet?”_

…

Yang’s eyes flit quickly between the secretary and the two other girls. She can feel the way her heart pounds against her ribcage. The silence seems to echoes in the otherwise empty stairwell, ricocheting off the cinderblock. It lasts for a second, but Yang can’t help but feel like it never ends.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

Velvet’s dark brown eyes take in the three girls in front of her before settling on Blake. For a brief moment, Yang thinks she sees recognition in the secretary’s eyes.  

“She’s in bad shape.” The forwardness of the statement surprises Yang, but she can hardly dispute the claim when, with each passing moment, Blake leans a little more of her weight into the blonde. Velvet glances at a small watch on her wrist. “And security is going to realize that guard outside her room is gone soon. You guys have to move.”

Yang is so stunned, she freezes. Is… Velvet _helping_ them? This brown-haired rabbit Faunus who hadn’t wanted to stand up to a guy in a club is going to help them commit a felony? “Velvet,” Yang begins, but she’s not even sure what to say.

Velvet waves her off, backing up into the door to open it for them. The breeze from the door ruffles her brown and honey blazer. “No time, detective.”

Yang closes her mouth, shouldering more of Blake’s weight as the girl leans into her. Yang chances a quick glance at the girl beside her, noticing that she somehow looks even paler than before, and is shaking almost imperceptibly.

They make their way down the steps, even as Velvet continues, “What did you do with the guard?”

Weiss explains for them. “Yang knocked him out from behind and locked him in the closet.”

Velvet nods. She speaks with a level of certainty that makes Yang blink. “From behind was a good idea. He can’t identify you that way. What about cameras?”

They have three steps left but Yang’s blood runs cold. _How did we forget the security cameras?_

They were wired throughout the entire precinct. Hit every angle of the hallway, the bullpen, even the stairwell. Yang mentally counts every single one that she knows they passed throughout the course of their plan. 8. She cringes to herself as she remembers the one in the corner of the interrogation room. That made 9. She had thought of everything… except those cameras.

Velvet reads the expression their faces, her eyes widening in realization. “You forgot about the cameras?”

“Weiss,” Yang says suddenly, looking over her shoulder at the girl as her thoughts sped ahead of her like a freight train. “I need you to take Blake. Get out of here. I’ll run back to the—“

Weiss glances up the stairwell. Velvet is still bracing the door open, and the breeze plays with the hem of her periwinkle skirt. “Yang, that’s across the building and two flights of stairs above us. Besides, if we just leave and something goes south for you—” She speaks quickly, and Yang knows that her thoughts are moving just as fast as Yang’s are.

Velvet’s soft voice cuts through their conversation. “I’ll take care of it.”

Both girls stop for a moment, looking at the brown-haired Faunus. Yang helps Blake down the last three steps, but she’s shaking her head. “Velvet, I couldn’t ask you to do that. If you’re caught—,”

Velvet holds up a hand. “Yang, it’s okay. Really. I owe you one anyway.”

“You don’t owe me _this_ ,” Yang insists, taking a step closer. Blake stumbles slightly, and it’s mostly Yang’s firm grip on her that keeps her from falling. “It’s bad enough that you’re just going to let us go. If you delete the camera footage, and they find out it was you, it’s not gonna be pretty.”

Velvet steadies her gaze on Yang’s lilac one for a long moment before she looks at Blake. “You guys are right to help Blake.” Yang glances at the girl beside her in time to see a faint, grateful smile grace the cat Faunus’s face. Velvet looks back at Yang and adds, “Don’t worry about me, Yang. Believe it or not, I’m pretty handy when it comes to cameras.”

…

Weiss’s car is waiting for them on the street as they exit into the alleyway between the precinct and the office building next door. The alleyway is dark and windy, lit only from the windows and neon sign on the skyscraper across the street. Yang glances over her shoulder at the door as it closes behind them, but Velvet had already left.

Weiss’s keys jingle in her hand as she pulls them out of her pocket and hurries to the driver door. Yang and Blake climb into the backseat, and they’ve barely gotten the door closed before Weiss is pulling out into late-night traffic.

“Where am I going, Yang?”

“My place.”

Weiss nods in understanding, catching her gaze in the rearview mirror. Yang takes the moment to take a closer look at Blake’s injuries beside her. Blake’s head is leaned up against the window, her eyes closed. Yang can see the faint rise and fall of her chest, but she’s passed out.

“Blake?” Yang asks, her voice barely above a whisper. The girl doesn’t stir, and Yang can see the tenseness in her shoulders and slightly furrowed brow. The blonde decides to let her be. As long as she’s breathing, Yang isn’t going to worry too much.

“Yang.” Weiss’ voice—softer than usual—catches Yang’s attention.

“Huh?”

“What happens now?”

It’s not something the two of them had talked about, even if they probably should have. What happens when they get to Yang’s place? It’s a loaded question.

She sighs, meeting Weiss’s quick glance through the mirror before letting her own gaze fall on the girl beside her. “Blake is gonna need time to heal. She’ll stay at my place until she’s good to go on her own, and then I’ll help her get out of the city. Hopefully she’ll be able to lay low long enough to figure things out from there.”

“What about for _you_?”

There’s a heavy silence, filled only with faint classical radio and the clicking of Weiss’s turn signal. The car slows to a stop at a red light. Yang watches a couple buy a hot dog from the vendor on the corner. “I don’t know,” she answers honestly.

There isn’t anything really stopping Yang from just… going back to work. If Yang covered her tracks like she’s almost certain she did—and since Velvet said she’d take care of the cameras—there’s no link between Yang and Blake’s disappearance. But knowing what she knows…. seeing how they treated Blake, knowing that Mortroach isn’t who he says he is… Yang can’t bring herself to go back for long.

Maybe she’d go back to work tomorrow to head off any suspicion. And when the air had settled and she’d gotten Blake out of the city, Yang would resign.

She didn’t know what the future held after that.

_“….if you’re just tuning in, that was Mozart’s Symphony number 40 in G-minor. This is Classical 101.5 FM.”_

_…_

“Blake.” Yang taps her knee against the other girl’s. Blake doesn’t move, her hair disheveled across her face. “Hey.” Yang gently shakes her shoulder. Still nothing.

“Yang…” Weiss’s voice is tight and anxious. She stands at the end of door she’d opened for Blake, her pale blue eyes alert as she kept an eye on the street around them.

“I know, Weiss.” Yang slides out the other side of the car, and comes around to the open door on Blake’s side. She unbuckles the girl’s seatbelt before sliding one arm under her knees and bracing the girl’s back with her other arm and picking her up bridal-style.

Blake’s head lolls against Yang’s shoulder. “Side door,” Yang grunts as Weiss closes the car door and rushes ahead to get the door to the stairwell on the side of the building hidden in shadows by the building next to it. They take the one flight of stairs, Weiss opening doors and unlocking Yang’s apartment when they reach the end of the hallway.

Zwei barks a greeting as Yang kicks the door closed behind the three girls. Ruby appears in entryway between the short hallway and the kitchen. Her short hair wet from a shower, her silver eyes grow wide at the sight before her. She quickly steps out of the way as Yang crosses the apartment with Blake in her arms.

“Ruby,” Yang says as she passes her sister and heads down the hall to her bedroom, “get me a glass of water and the first aid kit from under the bathroom sink?”

Yang nudges her bedroom door open with the toe of her boot, crossing the short distance to the bed and gingerly laying the girl in her arms down on the blankets. She sits down on the floor—one knee up with an arm braced across it—and leans her head back against the dresser. Her heart is still pounding in her chest.

Ruby appears in the doorway, a glass of water in one hand and a white box in the other. “Yang?” Her voice sounds small. Younger, somehow.

Yang pushes herself to her feet and takes the first aid kit out of her sister’s hands. Her lilac eyes don’t leave her sister’s face. “Ruby,” she says softly. “You don’t have to be part of this. It’s not too late if you want to get out of dodge.”

Ruby shakes her head, her dark wet hair falling into her eyes. “It’s not that.” She’s quiet for a moment, then finally meets Yang’s gaze. “What did they do to her?”

Yang’s gut twists a little. She swallows and adverts her gaze. “Nothing good, sis.” She sits on the edge of the bed, the open first aid kit propped on the dresser. She pulls out antiseptic wipe and dabs gently at the cuts along Blake’s arms. Ruby sets the glass of water on the dresser beside the box and quietly closes the door behind her.

…

Yang jolts awake to the sound of a heavy clatter. She was sleeping on the couch in the small living room, but she jumps to her feet and raises her fists, ready for a fight. She hears a muttered curse and she follows the sound, looking to the kitchen. A chair is laying on its side by the table, and frozen beside it is none other than Blake Belladonna.

Yang lowers her hands and crosses the distance between her and the other girl, reaching forward slowly to set the chair upright. In the abrupt silence, Yang can hear Blake’s quick, shallow breathing. “Blake? What are you doing up?”

Blake’s amber gaze—wide with fear a second ago—narrows. “Where am I?”

“Relax. You’re in my apartment.”

“What am I doing here?” The question comes low and sharp. When Yang tries to step closer to take a look at the bandaging job she’d done on the girl’s wrists and other injuries, Blake takes a step back. Maintains the distance between them.

Yang raises her hands again, but this time in surrender. “Take it easy… How much do you remember?”

Blake’s eyes flit to the right for a moment. _Signs of auditory and visual memory_. Her answer comes in quiet, broken fragments. “You… you came in. You said something about getting me out. And…” Blake looks down at her wrists, her voice softening with something Yang isn’t quite sure how to define. “You… removed my handcuffs…” Her gaze rises to meet Yang’s.

Yang softens her voice as well, not taking her eyes off the other girl. Blake looks like she’s about to fall over. “We took you back here so you could heal.” Blake blinks a few times rapidly, then sinks herself into the chair Yang had just righted. Yang grabs her arm gently and pulls her back to her feet. “No, no, no. You need to lie down.”

“I’m okay.” Even as she says it, there’s a wariness in her voice, and she follows without protest when Yang tries to lead her back to her bedroom. Blake wordlessly sits back down on the edge of Yang’s bed, the black and yellow comforter rumpled. The cat Faunus’s hair is a tangled mess, but it almost blends into the black pillow as the girl lays down.

Yang turns to leave, but pauses and asks the question that is pressing on her mind. “You were trying to leave, weren’t you?”

“What?”

“Just now. When you tripped over the chair. You were trying to leave.” The blonde isn’t sure why this sudden realization bothers her. _Leaving_ is exactly what Yang is trying to help Blake do, isn’t it?

Blake doesn’t reply, and Yang sighs, reaching for the door handle. “Just… get some sleep, okay? Breakfast is at 7. I’ll see you in the morning.”

…

**A/N: Please, please, please lemme know what you thought! Keeps me going.** **J**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Classes have been piling on the work, so I blame that. Heh. It’s kind of a low-key chapter, but I hope you guys like it! Still lots of important stuff ahead.**

**Enduring thanks to Masterpick for his help.**

**…**

Yang is standing in the kitchen area of her apartment at the stove in black shorts and an orange tank top—her go-to pajamas—the following morning. The sizzle of bacon in the pan and the sweet, flour-based aroma of hot waffles wafts through the apartment. Zwei sits patiently at Yang’s feet, eyes trained on the skillet that Yang shakes, ready or any stray pieces of pork that may fall to the floor.

Ruby is pulling waffles out of the waffle-iron when Yang hears the quiet padding of feet down the hallway and Weiss appears in the entryway, bleary-eyed and with her white ponytail even more askew than usual. She’s wearing the same clothes she’d been wearing yesterday. She’d elected to sleep the night at Yang’s rather than go home at such a late hour, taking the inflatable mattress they’d set up in Ruby’s room.

“Morning!” Ruby calls to her cheerfully. “I hope you like waffles!”

Weiss grumbles something, causing Yang to chuckle. “There’s a pot of coffee already made, Weiss. Help yourself. Mugs are in the cabinet above the microwave.”

Weiss doesn’t reply, but Yang can hear the sound of the cabinet in question opening and closing behind her. Yang glances at the entryway, her angle allowing her to see down to the door to her bedroom. It was still closed.

Yang looks back at the skillet. Flips the bacon over.

She turns slightly to lean up against the counter beside the stove. Weiss takes a seat at the table with her hands folded around the white ceramic mug, _Vale Police Department_ in blue block lettering around it. For the first time she can remember, Yang thinks it looks out of place in her apartment.

“So…” Ruby says, pouring a cup of batter into the waffle iron, “are you guys going in to work today? Or are you going to tell them you’re sick or something?”

Weiss sips from the mug, exchanging a glance with Yang. “Going in is probably the smartest choice.”

Yang swallows and nods. “If we don’t show up, they’ll definitely think we’re somehow involved, excuse or not.” She pauses, flipping the stove burner off as she starts pulling the bacon out of the pan and placing it on the paper towel on top of the plate beside her. “It’s probably safer if we go in, actually.”

Yang doesn’t even have to look at her younger sister to know that Ruby is frowning. Going into the precinct after they broke out the city’s biggest criminal is—to put it lightly—risky. But Yang is certain that _not_ showing up is even riskier. The brief silence that fills the apartment is interrupted by Blake suddenly appearing in the entryway to the kitchen. Yang almost jumps when she sees her. She hadn’t even heard the door open.

Regardless, Yang flashes a friendly grin in an effort to ease the lingering tension in the air. “Morning, sunshine. I hope you like bacon and waffles.” She takes the plate of meat and sets it in the center of the table. “Coffee?”

Blake seems frozen for a moment, then blinks a few times and nods. “Uh, yeah. Please.”

The Faunus is in black yoga pants and a black t-shirt that’s a little too big for her. The pants were a pair that Yang never wore, and the shirt technically belonged to their uncle. It had gotten mixed up in the luggage from the last time Yang had visited him and she’d never sent it back. It hangs off Blake’s shoulders loosely.

 _Her color is better, at least_ , Yang thinks absently to herself as she watches her carefully. Blake’s bare feet pad quietly over and she takes a seat across the table from Weiss. _Food will help even more._

There’s a faintly bewildered look in her eyes as Ruby sets a plate of waffles and cup of coffee in front of her with a small smile. Blake reaches for the forks in the middle of the table when Yang catches sight of the red dots on the bandages around her wrists.

“Hang on, Blake,” Yang says, grabbing the first aid kit from where she’d set it on the counter the previous night. “Let me take a look at your arms.”

Blake pulls her hands into her lap, shaking her head. “That’s okay.”

Yang’s brow furrows as she walks over, setting the kit on the table and crouching down by her chair. “Here…I just need to change the bandages. It keeps the cuts from getting infected.” Yang reaches for Blake’s hands, taking them when she doesn’t resist and gingerly unwrapping the bandage around her left wrist to start.

Blake hisses a breath quietly as the last layer pulls at the scabbed wounds. “Sorry,” Yang replies, reaching for the antiseptic wipe.

“I didn’t know you knew how to do this stuff, Yang,” Weiss says as she watches Yang clean the cuts on Blake’s wrists from the handcuffs.

Yang lifts a shoulder in a shrug as she dabs at the angry red, purple, and yellow skin. “I was a rough and tumble kid. Ruby’s mom had to clean and stitch me up more than once.” Yang’s mouth quirks a smile at the memories it brings back to her mind. She reaches for Blake’s right arm, following the same process of unwrapping the bandage and cleaning up the healing damage.

“Remember that time you broke your arm playing chicken with Uncle Qrow, Dad, and me?” Ruby asks, the beginnings of a giggle bubbling in her voice.

Yang chuckles and shakes her head. “Uncle Qrow’s face was priceless.”

“Mom was so mad at him!” Ruby laughs. “Since you’d been on his shoulders, she mostly blamed him. And Dad. I think Dad thought she was gonna smack him.”

The memory makes Yang laugh again, and she glances up at Blake. The girl is watching her with a look in her eyes that Yang can’t quite place, and the faint traces of a smile pulling at her lips. Yang wraps the girl’s wrists again, using medical tape to secure it in place, and then pats Blake’s knee.

“Alright. You’re all squared away.” Yang stands and looks to Weiss. “You ready to head out?”

Weiss knocks back the last long swallow of coffee, setting the cup back on the table before standing up as well. “Absolutely.” She goes into the living room and grabs her bag.

Yang turns her attention to Blake. “Get some rest today, okay? We’ll figure out a plan for what happens next when we get back. Take it easy. They won’t know where you are, and if you lay low, they shouldn’t find out.”

Blake hesitates, then offers a reluctant nod.

Yang glances at her sister. “And if Ruby gives you too much trouble, feel free to eat the cookie dough in the freezer.”

“What?!” Ruby shouts, teasingly indignant, as Yang and Weiss close the door behind them.

…

Yang can’t help the swell of relief she feels when she steps through the double glass doors into the precinct lobby and sees Velvet sitting at her usual spot behind the desk. Her brown hair is tucked behind her left ear, her tall rabbit ears peeking over the top of the computer screen as she types something on the keyboard.

“Good morning, Velvet,” Yang says, offering a friendly smile as she scans her identification card to get access.

The secretary looks up and smiles back. “Good morning, Yang. Weiss.” The identification reader beeps and flashes red. Yang feels a sudden rush of anxiety before Velvet speaks up, “Oh. They’ve upped security today to keep closer tabs on who is coming in and out of the building. I’m supposed to manually let people through. Give me a sec.” Velvet clicks a few times on the mouse of her computer.

“Oh?” Weiss says. “Why’s that?” She is as conscious as Yang is of the security personnel at the other desk across the room, and the fact that the man behind the desk keeps glancing at the three girls. Listening to what they say.

Velvet’s mouth pulls into a thin line. “Black escaped somehow.”

Yang blinks, feigning a double-take. “She what?”

“At some point last night after you left, they found Black’s guard locked in a broom closet, and Black was nowhere to be found.”

Weiss speaks up as the ID reader beeps again and flashes green. “Didn’t they get anything from the cameras? They’re all over the precinct. One of them had to pick something up.” It’s a reasonable question to ask, but more importantly, it’s asking an entirely different question at the same time. _Did you take care of the cameras?_

Velvet shakes her head, lifting her dark eyes to flit between the two other girls as she responds innocently, “By the time they tried to check, Black must’ve deleted the footage. There’s a good ten minutes of footage missing from all the cameras. They’re looking to that, too.”

Yang purses her lips and nods. “Well, I tracked her down once, I can do it again,” she says, for the benefit of the security guard eavesdropping and the security cameras positioned in the corner of the room. “Thanks, Velvet.”

On the elevator ride that follows, neither girl says anything. Yang isn’t entirely sure whose tension is feeding the other’s, but the tightness in the blonde’s shoulders pulls her spine taut. Weiss smooths out her skirt, and only those who really knew her well would be able to tell it as the nervous tick it is. Yang wants to tell her to relax. But in the musty air that occupies the space between them and the cramped metallic walls of the elevator, Yang can’t even relax herself.

The ride to the third floor feels longer than normal.

Yang sees Sun at the end of the makeshift hallway between the cubicle walls. He’s tugging at his tie with agitation, pulling it loose around his neck with a force that strikes Yang as unusual for the typically easy-going Faunus. Weiss doesn’t seem to notice, heading straight to her desk, keeping her head and eyes low.

“Sun?” Yang asks as she approaches him. There’s an angry fire in his gray-blue eyes when he looks up, but it diminishes slightly when he sees that it’s Yang.

“Yang. Hey.” Sun turns into his own cubicle, practically collapsing into the chair and running a hand through his already mussed blonde hair.

Yang frowns. She can’t remember the last time she saw Sun so… upset. “What’s going on?”

Sun shakes his head, clenching his jaw before replying. “It’s ridiculous. You heard Black escaped last night?”

Yang folds her arms across her chest, leaning against his desk. “Yeah. Velvet told me when I got here this morning.”

“They’ve been questioning people all morning. Anyone who might know anything about anything.” Sun’s monkey tail twitches slightly. “They accused me of sympathizing with Black.” He sighs, running a hand down his face.

Yang feels her stomach sink a little. “Why?”

Sun glances up at her, then adverts his gaze a moment later. “I’m Faunus, Yang.” He swallows. “We tend to all get lumped together.”

“Sun--,”

But Sun keeps going, the fire returning to his eyes. “Or if we try to explain that we’re not all the same, then I’m expected to apologize for the actions of someone else just because we’re both Faunus. Even though I have no actual connection to them.” He shakes his head again, pulling his tie even looser around his neck. He pauses then, glancing back at Yang and sighing. “Sorry. This just… happens more often than you might think.”

Yang nods a little, and offers a weak attempt at a smile. “I’m sorry people suck.”

Sun chuckles faintly. “Thanks.” There’s a brief moment of silence. The regular day-to-day buzz of activity in the bullpen seems subdued somehow. Conversations are more hushed. Telephones aren’t ringing as often. Just as Yang is about to leave to go to her own desk, Sun grabs her wrist.

“Yang.” She looks at him as he continues in a quiet voice. “They dropped your name a few times. I don’t for one second think you had anything to do with it, but… tread carefully.” Yang feels a cold wash of adrenaline flood her, but she keeps it out of her expression. Sun adds, “They’ll probably question you, but nobody wanted Black in custody more than you did. They know that, they just have to follow protocols. So don’t do or say anything stupid.”

Yang forces a grin. “I’m never stupid, Sun.”

Sun smiles and shakes his head. He opens his mouth to reply when a familiar baritone voice cuts into their conversation and Yang feels a slender hand on her shoulder. “Detective Xiao Long.”

Yang turns to see Mortroach—eyes a little harder set despite the friendly smile on his angular face. Yang’s blood runs cold, but she raises her eyebrows expectantly. “Yes, sir?”

“Come with me. I have a few questions I need to ask you.”

…

**A/N: Would absolutely love to hear your thoughts! They totally make my day! ^u^**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Again, super sorry about the wait. Masterpick came home on break, so both of the past two weekends have been filled with me spending as much time with him as I can, and the week in-between was packed with school-work. Additionally, there was a slight delay with Masterpick beta-ing this chapter, since he’s just as swamped with work as I am, if not more so. Classes are working on the final push to the end of the semester, so apologies if my updates come even less frequently over the next handful of weeks. I’ll do my best to keep up. ^u^**

**Thanks for all the support thus far. Your patience means leaps and bounds.**

**Thanks as always to Masterpick for his help, time, and encouragement.**

**…**

Yang Xiao Long follows the police chief through the makeshift hallways of the bullpen and into the first room down the second hallway they pass. It’s the conference room—the same one that Ruby had been in when they’d wanted to question her without arresting her—which makes sense since Yang isn’t being arrested, but she can’t help but feel like it’s an overly casual setting for the tense discussion she can feel brewing even before he closes the door behind him.

The blinds at the windows on the far end of the room are drawn, but sunlight leaves thin parallel streaks of light against the faded beige carpeting. At the long oak table in the center of the room sits two people that Yang wasn’t expecting. Nancy and Ni.

“Can I get you anything to drink, Detective?” Mortroach— _not his real name,_ Yang reminds herself—offers, his tenor voice breaking Yang from her initial surprise at seeing the other two people.

Yang shakes her head. “Uh, I’m okay. Thanks.”

“Take a seat,” Ni interjects, inclining his head to the chair across from him. He’s leaning back, arms stretched out to rest against the two chairs on either side of him and legs slightly spread as well. He’s got that cocky glint in his eyes, everything about him oozing self-assurance.

Yang has to stop herself from rolling her eyes as she sits across from him. She leans back in her own chair, drumming her fingertips on the arm-rests. “So what’s this about?”

“I asked Detective Ni to be here,” the chief begins, ignoring Yang’s question as he sits in the empty chair between Nancy and the detective, “largely because you two have worked most closely with the Black case. I thought you both might be able to provide some… insight into this situation.”

Yang shrugs a shoulder. “By ‘situation’, you mean Blake escaping?”

The chief’s eyes flit upwards to lock briefly with Yang before he looks back at the blue folder on the table. “Precisely. So you’ve heard about it?”

“It’s hard to miss, sir,” Yang tells him. “I mean, I hadn’t been in the building two minutes before the secretary, Velvet, told me what she knew about what had happened. I also heard Officer Wukong telling me what he knew before you came over.” Yang pauses, then shrugs. “I’m only surprised nobody called me as soon as they knew that Black was gone. Seems like we’ve lost precious time in tracking her down.”

Yang resists the urge to shift under the stare that the police chief levels at her for just a moment too long. Yang isn’t sure how much they know, or how much they can prove. It’s a chess game, really. One that she can only play one move at a time.

“We felt it the safest choice,” he eventually says. “Considering the circumstances. Detective, where were you last night between 9:00 PM and midnight?”

It’s a routine question. One that Yang is ready for. “Well, I left the precinct a little after 9. Spent the evening with my sister, Ruby. Went to bed around 11.”

The chief opens his mouth to ask something else, but Ni interrupts, leaning forward. “Can anyone verify that besides your sister?” He does little to mask the aggression behind the words, his jaw jutted and his gaze narrowed to daggers.

Yang levels an unfazed look at him and answers, “Officer Schnee. She was kind enough to drop me off at my apartment on her way back to her place.”

“What did you and your sister do last night?” Ni shoots back, almost before Yang had finished talking.

Yang glances at the chief, whose mouth quirks in irritation but he looks expectantly at Yang. The blonde answers smoothly, “Watched _Red v. Blue_ re-runs.”

“What episo—“

“Detective Ni,” Mortroach cuts in, his tenor voice dropping in pitch in a vaguely threatening way. Ni clamps his mouth shut and Yang can’t quite keep the faint smirk that pulls at the corner of her lips. The chief continues, “Miss Xiao Long, for how many weeks were you on the Black case file?”

Yang blows out a breath as she calculates in her head, then rattles off the number for him.

“That’s a long time to spend with one case, detective,” he replies.

Yang straightens in her chair a little. He’s implying something, Yang can tell. She just can’t make out _what_. “I guess.”

“The longest any detective has worked on her particular case, actually,” he continues, shifting through the papers in the folder. “It’s a long time to spend in one criminal’s head. Trying to think like she thinks.”

Yang bristles. “Sir, if you’re insinuating that I’ve somehow become Black—,”

“Oh, nothing of the sort, detective,” Mortroach interrupts, glancing up at her before looking back down at the papers on the table. “I’m only saying that some detectives can get their emotions manipulated when they get too close to a case. And your record has indicated that you’ve been… emotionally driven in the past.”

Yang’s grip on the armrests of her chair tighten briefly. When Ni glances at her hands, she forces herself to relax.

“With all due respect, sir,” Yang bites back, “I think my _records_ indicate that I have the best success rate of any detective or officer in this precinct in recent memory. Rivaled only by retired Chief Ozpin. I was put and kept on the case for that reason, and I was successful where every other detective had failed.” She ignores Ni’s scoff of incredulity. “I devoted that much time to this case because I wanted to bring Black in. And after all of that, you think I’d just turn around and set her loose?”

There’s a brief moment of silence. “You can relax, detective,” Mortroach eventually says as he writes something down on one of the pieces of paper. “I did not mean to insult you or belittle the dedication you’ve given to this precinct. But even you have to see how your proximity to this case means that we must be extremely thorough in our investigations.”

Ni is staring at the police chief with wide eyes. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to ask her?” Ni rounds his gaze over to the blonde across the table.  “What about why Black only ever wanted to talk to you? Or why you always were the one to remind the officers to give her meals and water? Isn’t that a sign of some form of sympathy for the Faunus?” He pauses, his gaze narrowing. “What about when you watched Black get interrogated by Emerald and Mercury?”

Even the memory makes Yang’s stomach turn, but she forces a look of confusion. In the far corner of the room, the water cooler bubbles. Mortroach slides the papers back into the folder and stands. “Ni.”

His dark gray eyebrows almost disappear up into his long bangs as he looks at the chief. “But sir…”

The chief shakes his head and turns an apologetic smile to Yang. “You are free to go, detective. Thank you for your cooperation.”

….

Yang leaves the precinct at precisely 6:17 PM. It feels early to her, given the endless late nights she’d been pulling for weeks on end, but it’s about on-target for her schedule before the Black case ever fell into her pile. Besides, if she’s being honest with herself, Yang had been feeling a little like she was suffocating in the tense air that had been circulating the bullpen throughout the day. Voices had been quieter and tighter, eyes followed everyone’s movement, even if you just stood up to get a cup of coffee. Silence flooded the bullpen every time the police chief stepped out of the conference room and called someone else in.

So she wasn’t the only one eager to leave.

The tension doesn’t ease out of the blonde’s shoulders, however, until she turns the key into her apartment door and sees Blake sitting on the couch. _She didn’t leave_. Yang tries not to think too hard about why relief floods her as completely as it does. She wants to make sure Blake heals up and gets out safely. That’s all.

Zwei barks, his short tail wagging happily as Yang reaches down to scratch his head right between his ears. Blake is still in yoga pants, her legs folded up in front of her, but she’s changed into a white tank top that Yang had forgotten was in her closet. Her cat ears aren’t flattened against her head this time, something that Yang is secretly grateful for.

“Hey, Yang!” Ruby calls from the kitchen. “How’d it go?”

Blake mutes the television—Yang sees an aerial view of Vale with the headline _FAUNUS CRIMINAL LOOSE IN THE CITY, REPORTS SAY_ scrawled along the bottom of the screen—and tenses slightly when Zwei jumps up on the couch beside her.

“Hey, guys,” Yang replies, closing the door behind her.

“Glad you’re home,” Ruby says as she steps away from the stove and wipes her hands on a checkered dishtowel. “We were kinda worried… weren’t sure whether you’d get caught or not.”

“We?” Yang raises her eyebrows in surprise, glancing at Blake. She adverts her gaze, and Yang looks back at her sister. “So far, we’re still in the clear. They questioned everyone, but it didn’t seem like they were getting anywhere.”

Ruby smiles, the tension easing out of her shoulders a bit. “Well, our day was much less exciting. Right, Blake?”

A faint—so faint that if Yang hadn’t been paying attention, she might’ve missed it—smile tugs at the Faunus’s lips. “Right.” Her gaze flits to Yang’s, and the blonde is suddenly aware of how… warm her eyes are. Like something between amber and honey, if such a thing existed.

Yang wasn’t sure what that “thing” would be, but a secret part of her wanted to find out.

“Yang?”

Yang shakes her head, breaking her gaze away from the other girl. “Huh?”

“I asked if Weiss was coming by later.”

“Oh. Yeah, I think so. Sorry, Rubes. Guess I’m just distracted.” Yang’s gaze drifts to the TV screen in the corner. They had taken a commercial break, showing two little kids eating cereal with a bit too much excitement to be realistic. Yang watches it for a moment before flipping the TV off and jerking her head to the bathroom. “Have you changed those bandages yet today?” she asks Blake.

The Faunus blinks, then sheepishly shakes her head. “They’re fine, Yang.”

Yang arches an eyebrow, a faint teasing smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “You really wanna go through this song and dance again?”

Blake looks at her for a long moment, as if trying to gauge how serious she is, before relenting. She pushes herself gingerly and gracefully to her feet, following as Yang goes into the bathroom down the short hallway past the kitchen and opens the cabinet under the sink to pull out the first aid kit. She nods to the edge of the bathtub, and Blake wordlessly takes a seat.

Yang moves to close the door—out of habit, really—but hears the faint breath that Blake takes, and sees out of the corner of her eye the way she grabs the edge of the tub as if preparing to bolt, and Yang stops short. She leaves it partially open, and Blake relaxes a little. But only a little.

Yang brushes aside the hurt that stings her chest. Blake’s reaction makes sense, doesn’t it?

Yang opens the box on the floor and kneels in front of Blake, taking her wrist and starting to change the bandages. Yang can hear Ruby opening and closing cabinets in the kitchen.

“You seem to be healing up okay,” Yang says, but she isn’t really talking _to_ Blake so much as trying to fill the uncomfortable silence that hangs between her and the other girl. “Nothing seems to be infected, which is good. I can’t tell yet if there’s going to be any scarring, though. How are is the rest of you? Any dizziness or headaches? Ribs feel okay?”

Blake nods. “Bruised, but nothing too bad,” she answers quietly. “Yang, I—“

“You sure they aren’t broken?” Yang interrupts, oblivious. “I didn’t check them earlier, but I probably should have.”

Blake gives her a humorless smile. Her words have a certainty behind them, but no real malice. “I’ve had broken ribs before, detective. I’m sure.”

Yang sits back on her heels as she finishes up securing the new bandage around her wrists. “I’m not anymore, you know.”

“Not what?”

“A detective.” Blake’s cat ears twitch slightly, but Yang avoids her gaze and busies herself with securing the new bandages, packing up the kit again, and closing it as she continues. “The precinct may not know it yet, but that all kind of went down the drain when I helped you escape.”

The silence that follows seems to echo against the glass and porcelain in the bathroom. “So why did you?” Blake asks, her words quiet and careful.

Yang sighs and opens the cabinet under the sink, setting the kit back in its proper place. “I already told you, Blake. You were right. About everything.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes against the setting sunlight that streams through the drawn blinds of the small window on the far wall. “You told me weeks ago to not trust the new chief. And I guess it got to the point where I just couldn’t ignore the facts anymore.”

Blake wraps her arms around herself, rubbing her upper arm with her opposite hand. “I… I’m not so sure I was right about _everything_.”

Surprised, Yang looks up at her. “What do you mean?”

Blake doesn’t look at her, her eyes instead looking intently at where the pale blue wallpaper is peeling as it meets the baseboard along the bottom of the wall. “That night you caught me on the roof. You told me that you weren’t there to hurt me, and I didn’t—for one second—believe you.”

Blake’s amber-honey gaze slowly rises to meet Yang’s lilac one as Yang asks, “but now you do?”

Blake holds her gaze for a long moment, and then stands up. She thinks about her answer before she replies. “I…” She sighs. “I… guess I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

She looks, for a moment, like she wants to say more. But Ruby’s shout cuts through apartment with a cheery, “Time for dinner!” Blake jumps slightly, but opens the door and heads down the hall. Yang sits for just a moment longer before she pushes herself to her feet and follows.

…

**A/N: Another not-very-exciting chapter, but I hope it was worth the wait anyway. ^u^ Please let me know with a review/comment!**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: You guys totally rock my socks (and I wear lame socks so they don’t rock on their own). Sorry for the wait. Both me and my beta have been swamped lately.**

**Got your helmet? *throws a brick on the gas pedal* Good. Here we go!**

**Endless, perpetual thanks to those who review/comment and especially to Masterpick for… well, for everything.**

**…**

Yang Xaio Long wakes with a start to the sound of Zwei’s sharp bark cutting through the still night air of the apartment.

It’s unusual behavior for the corgi, and made even more unusual by the low growl the dog emits, his fur bristling as Yang blinks the sleepiness from her eyes. She’s on the couch in the living room of her apartment, the lights turned off save for the digital clock on the DVD player below the TV on the opposite wall. _1:01 AM_.

“Zwei?” Yang whispers, confused at the odd behavior. Zwei barks again as if in response and nudges her leg with a high whine. _Something is wrong_. Yang feels her stomach twist with concern, squinting in the dark as she threads her fingers around the dog’s fur, trying to figure out if he was hurt.

Zwei pulls away from her, but growls again as he looks towards the door. Yang frowns, getting up and pushing the blanket off her legs as she peers through the peep hole. The hallway, as far as she can tell, is empty.

Still, Yang can’t shake the gut feeling that something is wrong. She runs her fingers through her tangled blonde hair as she pads her way quickly to the window above the sink in the kitchen. She parts the drawn blinds with her thumb to look out. It’s mostly just the side of the adjacent building and the dark alley below, but if she looks as far left as the window will allow her, she can see part of the street.

And she _thinks_ she sees the headlights of one of the police cruisers.

Despite herself, Yang feels her heart jump to her throat. Zwei pads at her calves, earnest. It doesn’t make her feel any better.

The blonde lets the blinds snap closed and rushes to Ruby’s room. Weiss had come over late that night to talk about some details of the next step of their plan, but nothing had really been made concrete anyway before the girls decided that perhaps sleep would allow for clearer minds after such a tense day at work. They had decided to figure things out in the morning, and Weiss had agreed to sleep on the blow-up mattress they’d set up the previous night for her in Ruby’s room.

Both girls start a bit when Yang rushes in, breezing past them to the window in her room and peering out of the blinds again. Ruby’s window overlooks the main street in front of the building, and Yang hopes that it would give her a better view than the window that overlooks the alleyway

“Yang, what are you doing?” Ruby asks, her voice thick with sleep. Zwei barks again, and jumps up into Ruby’s bed. The girl scratches his head, but it doesn’t seem to calm the corgi any.

Yang doesn’t answer her sister right away. She had been right. There _was_ a police cruiser parked outside the apartment complex. In fact, there’s—Yang counts quickly under her breath—five cruisers and a surveillance van just a little down the street. “ _What the hell?”_ Yang mutters under her breath, watching as one of the doors to the van opens and none other than Mortroach—or whatever his real name is—jumps out, talking into a radio. Yang swears his eyes flit briefly up to the exact window she is looking out of. Yang lets the blinds snap close.

“Yang?” Weiss asks.

Yang whirls around. “They’re here.”

Weiss’s eyes widen, already understanding even as Ruby chimes—sounding a bit more alert—with “Who is?”

“The cops.” Yang breezes out of the room, making a beeline for her own bedroom. Weiss rolls off the mattress and jumps to her feet, Ruby only a split second behind her.

“Yang, wait,” Weiss says, following the blonde. “Couldn’t this be totally unrelated? A drug bust in another apartment or something?”

“Don’t they need a warrant to get in here anyway?” Ruby offers from behind Weiss.

Yang stops by her boots in the hallway, leaning against the wall as she shoves them on. Yang isn’t sure how to explain to them. They’re right, of course. But Yang just can’t shake that gut feeling. “There’s six police vehicles out there. Five cruisers and a van. That’s way too many for just a drug bust.” She glances at the other girls. “I saw the chief, too. He wouldn’t come out for a routine run. They wouldn’t be running surveillance unless it was something big.”

Weiss and Ruby share a glance as Yang quickly ties her shoes, her fingers fumbling with the strings in her attempt at speed as she adds, “As for the warrant… You’re right, Ruby. But I also have the feeling that they won’t let a warrant stop them. We all know they’ve skirted what’s legal in the past when it comes to Blake.” She shakes the hair in face over her shoulder. “This isn’t something I’m willing to risk. I’ve gotta get Blake out of here.”

There’s the briefest pause, and then both girls scatter: Weiss towards the living room to grab her own shoes, and Ruby back to her bedroom with Zwei trotting anxiously behind. Yang takes a breath in a futile attempt to calm her racing heart before continuing down the hall to her own room where Blake was sleeping.

She softly raps her knuckles against the door as she opens it. “Blake?” She keeps the lights off as she enters. The girl is on her back, twisted up in the sheets beneath the comforter. Yang crosses the room in a few short strides, repeating her name, a little louder. Blake still doesn’t move.

Yang casts an anxious glance at the door, then at the digital clock on the nightstand. _1:03 AM_. Had it really only been two minutes since she last looked?

“Blake,” Yang tries again, gently shaking her shoulder. The Faunus’s eyes snap open, blindly grabbing Yang’s wrist and locking it down, her other arm instinctively going straight for Yang’s throat.

Yang blocks the blow with her other arm. “Whoa. Blake—,” Yang grunts as the girl grabs her arm and tries to wrench it down. “Blake, it’s me.”

Blake stops struggling, blinking hard before her vision seems to clear. Yang thinks for a moment that she sees a faint blush color her cheeks as she sits up. “Yang? What… What’s going on?”

“We have to move,” she replies quickly and faintly apologetic. “Now. The cops are outside and they’re gonna be trying to get in here probably any moment now.”

Blake’s gaze sharpens even more, kicking the covers off and jumping to her feet. She jams her feet into a pair of black tennis shoes and followed Yang out into the hallway. Weiss skids to a stop, nearly colliding with Yang just as there’s a sharp knock on the front door of the apartment. Ruby appears in the doorway of her bedroom, shoes on and Crescent Rose collapsed at her hip. All four girls’ heads snap over to the door.

“ _Police. Open up!”_

Yang mutters a curse under her breath, and seeing all of the other girls’ eyes widen, claps her hands on Weiss’s shoulders. “Hey. Weiss, focus.” Weiss pulls her composure back, leveling a cool gaze back at Yang. The blonde offers what she hopes is an encouraging look. “I want you to take Ruby. You said earlier that you parked a few blocks down the street, right?”

Weiss nods. “Yeah. There wasn’t any parking right outside.”

Yang returns with a nod of her own. “That works in our favor this time. Take Ruby out the fire escape and get out of the city if you can.”

Behind Weiss, Ruby is shaking her head. “Yang, what about you and Blake?”

More knocking. “ _Yang Xiao Long. We know you’re in there. Open this door.”_

“Don’t worry. Blake and I aren’t gonna stick around either,” Yang answers quickly and quietly. “If we split, we’re harder to catch.” _I hope_.

She turns her attention back to Weiss. “Get my sister out safely. Drive fast. Drive smart.” She gives the girl a gentle push, and Weiss returns with a determined nod before spinning around and running for Ruby’s room, grabbing the girl’s arm to pull her with her. Zwei barks again and follows. The fire escape is out her bedroom window.

Yang wastes no time, rushing back into her bedroom and yanking the closet door open. At the bottom of her small closet is a black backpack. She’d packed it when she had first joined the force. When her life had revolved around her desire to find her mom, Yang Xiao Long had packed a go-bag. She silently thanked her past-self for not unpacking it. She grabs it and swings it over her shoulder even as she hears Blake ask from the doorway, “Yang?”

The blonde doesn’t respond. She grabs the other bag—the one she usually brought with her to the precinct—that she’d dropped in the corner of the room and pulls out the black bow she’d forgotten about. “Blake, I need to ask you to do something.”

“ _We’re asking you one more time. Open this door!”_

Yang crosses back to the Faunus and shoves the bow into her hands. “I hate to ask this,” she says. “But I need you to put this back on. It’ll make you harder to spot as we try to get out of the city.” Despite the urgency of the situation, Yang couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Yang didn’t want Blake to feel like she needed to hide her Faunus traits, but…

Blake looks at it, then wordlessly ties it up in her hair. Yang brushes past her in the door, but Blake is right on Yang’s heels as the two girls run down the short hallway.

Both girls jump slightly as the sound of the front door slamming open ricochets through the apartment. “ _Vale P.D!”_

“Go!” Yang shouts, but Blake is already climbing through the window onto the fire escape. Yang is right behind her, closing the window as Blake expertly dropped her way through the scaffolding of the fire escape. Yang isn’t quite as fast, and she can’t help but note in the back of her mind just how… _gracefully_ Blake is able to move. The two girls make short work of the network of ladders and platforms.

“Where are we going?” Blake asks as Yang’s feet hit the asphalt of the alleyway.

“That way,” Yang says hurriedly, shoving her towards the adjacent building. “There’s a parking garage on the other side of this building but if we head to the street to go around, we’ll definitely be caught.” They were risking enough as it was already. In the back of her mind, Yang couldn’t help but note that the lack of police presence in this alleyway was just… sloppy police work. But someone was bound to come looking any second.

Yang tries the door of the adjacent building—a convenience store on the first floor, residency above it—and slams her fist against it, followed by the weight of her shoulder. It doesn’t budge. “It’s locked.”

“Move,” Blake cuts in, using her hip and shoulder to nudge Yang out of the way.  The blonde stumbles a bit, and tries to see what Blake is doing but the girl’s back blocks her view. Yang releases a sharp breath, looking quickly down both entry ways to the alley.

Yang isn’t entirely sure how much time has passed—in her head, she had counted to about 80—when Blake swings the door open.

“How did you do that?” the blonde asks, but wastes no time in slipping into the room.

Blake swings the door shut behind them. “The lock they used was pretty standard,” she replies simply. “It’s a quick pick.”

Yang purses her lips, impressed. “Not bad,” she admits. The room is small and dark, but lit dimly by a faded yellow glow of emergency lights overhead. Based on the shelves and boxes, Yang guesses they’re probably in the stock room of the convenience store. “The store is closed, so we shouldn’t run into anybody. Follow me.”

Yang and Blake make their way, slowly and silently, through the maze of shelves. Yang is grateful for the dim lighting as she sidesteps boxes stacked on the tile floor. The air is cool in the storage room, and Yang feels goosebumps spread over her arms. When they reach the door at the far end of the room, she grabs the handle and casts a quick glance back to Blake behind her.

The Faunus nods, and Yang cracks the door open. Shelves of chip bags, candy, cheap magazines, and cigarettes are illuminated mostly by the streetlights that shine through the windowed front of the store. The silence is almost eerie; Yang had been in this store long enough to know that they usually had the radio playing quietly over the speakers, but it had been turned off at closing. The store was still and silent, and even though the air from the store warmed the cool air around her, Yang couldn’t shake the chills on her arms.

The store was vacant, but the street wasn’t. From her limited view, Yang could see a few of the police cruisers parked out front. Coworkers of hers were standing on the sidewalk, talking to one another and a man that Yang recognizes from passing, cordial smiles in the breakroom said something into his radio.

It doesn’t fully hit Yang until that moment that she is being pursued by her own _coworkers_.

“Yang?” Blake whispers, snapping the girl out of her thoughts.

“Coast is clear, but we’ve gotta be careful of that window,” Yang replies, brushing off the concern and keeping her voice low just in case. “So… duck and bolt.” She waits for a moment, and then nudges the door open and practically dives for the cover behind the shelf in the back of the store. Blake follows, kicking the door closed behind her with her foot. Yang keeps low and hurries along the shelf, stopping at the far edge of it.

All that’s left is the short open area between the end of the shelf and the cashier’s counter. Behind that, there was a short, walled hallway with restrooms and at the end of that hallway was another door that lead out to the alleyway on the other side of the building. It would lead them right next to the parking garage.

Yang holds up three fingers behind her to signal to Blake. Drops one. Drops another. _3…2…1. Go._

Yang breaks into another short run. It’s maybe twelve feet. But either it’s still too far or Yang just has poor timing, because she hears shouting from the street. They’ve been seen. Muffled through the locked door and glass window, Yang can still make out what one of them shouts.

“ _They’re in the store headed away from the apartment! Go!”_

Yang swears under her breath, not breaking stride as she covers the few feet it is to the hallway. She chances a quick glance around the corner to look out the windowed front and sees some of the officers circling around to the alleyway they were about to exit into.

“New plan!” Yang shouts to Blake as the Faunus skids to a stop halfway down the hall. Yang shoves the door across from her open, almost knocking the _Ladies_ sign off the hook on the door. Blake slips into the bathroom as Yang lets it slam closed behind them.

The Faunus doesn’t even need Yang to tell her the idea. She sees the window above the stalls near the ceiling, and the rusting fire-escape scaffolding through the yellowed glass. She climbs one of the stalls and shoves the window up to open it, cringing as its rusted metal screams in protest. Yang wordlessly gives her feet a bit of a boost as the girl climbs out. Blake lands with a metallic clang on the platform and reaches back. She grabs Yang’s forearm, voicing a faint grunt as she helps the blonde up out of the window as well. Yang closes it behind them.

Never before has Yang felt so grateful to live in such an old part of Vale where most of the buildings still had fire escapes.

“Down or up?” Blake asks, breathing hard from the exertion. They’re on the lowest platform, back behind the building. The parking garage had gotten a slight renovation last summer that meant it continued to wrap back behind the building. Last summer, it had been obnoxious with the constant drone of construction whenever Yang tried to sleep. Now?

Now, Yang Xiao Long felt a gratitude that probably would have been stronger if the situation didn’t call for so much urgency. “Down,” she replies, giving Blake a short, urgent push. “Head for the parking garage. Don’t slow down and don’t look back. I’m right behind you.”

“That’s cutting it close, isn’t it?”

“Just go!”

Blake wasn’t wrong. At most, the change in direction out of the building—the back alley instead of the side alley—had maybe bought them a few seconds as the police would have just a bit farther to go to catch them. But any distance that Yang could put between the officers and Blake, she’d take.

Yang chances the jump and forgoes the ladder, landing with a heavy thud on her feet. She and Blake take off at another dead sprint for the parking garage, both girls vaulting over the short wall and ducking behind the cover of the cars as they hear shouting in the alleyway behind them. Yang, crouched low behind a pickup truck, locks eyes with Blake and points to her left.

Both girls run as fast as they can in their crouched position, circling the garage up a few levels. The shouting briefly gets more distant, but Yang is certain that it’s really only a matter of time before they figure out they they’re in the parking garage.

When she sees _LEVEL 4: CLEARANCE LOW_ printed on the concrete wall, she can’t help but smile briefly to herself. Her eyes quickly scan the parking space numbers on the wall above each vehicle when she sees it, perched with a beige tarp covering it. Yang can feel Blake’s quizzical gaze at her back, but she ignores it and pulls the tarp off.

Her motorcycle, looking sleek and clean as ever with its sharp black and orange design. Two helmets are sitting on the leather seat, and Yang grabs the black one and turns to look at Blake.

“Yesterday, you said you didn’t know what to believe about me.” They can hear the sound of the police sirens starting up. Yang looks down at the black helmet—the one she usually kept for Ruby, just in case—and sees her own reflection looking up at her. Her eyes are bright with adrenaline and fear.

“Yang…”

Yang holds the helmet out to Blake, her lilac gaze rising earnestly to meet Blake’s amber-honey one. “Now you’ve gotta make a decision,” Yang interrupts. “You can bolt from here and take your chances on your own, or you can come with me.”

The sirens are getting closer, louder. Yang has to raise her voice slightly to be heard over them.

“Blake. Do you trust me?”

…

**A/N: *kicks the brick off the gas and slams on the brake* So… how was your ride?**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Honestly, the feedback I got on last chapter completely blew me away. I was flailing and blushing like crazy. So thank you so much. I am 100% biased but I have the best readers ever. So sorry for making you guys wait. I got pretty stuck on this chapter.**

**A quick note: This was my first shot at writing a vehicle chase scene like this. I hope it turned out okay! I tried to research my way through it, but I apologize for any factual/realistic inaccuracies.**

**Special shout-out, as always, to Masterpick. He’s been super stressed and insanely swamped lately and occasionally sick, so he didn’t beta this chapter, but he still manages to find time to help me and for that I am eternally grateful. I also get to see him tomorrow so ACKSFDSDF >u<**

**…**

“ _Blake. Do you trust me?”_

Yang sees Blake’s hands ball into fists at her sides. Her amber-honey gaze flickers around them, the bow on the top of her head twitching slightly as the sirens of the police cruisers get louder. The wind tugs at the ends of her long dark hair.

“I…”

Yang can see the tension in the girl’s shoulders under the black tank top she’d been wearing when Yang woke up her up. Her eyes are wide and her whole frame is coiled to bolt. Yang just isn’t sure if she would be running _with_ her or _away_ from her.

Yang shakes her head and tosses the black helmet in her hand to the other girl. Blake catches it reflexively as Yang pulls her yellow helmet on and pulls the keys out of the pocket of her go-bag. The motorcycle roars to life as she starts it up, echoing against the concrete of the low and tight parking garage. She peers over the ledge out onto the street. Police are lining up at the exits. It won’t be long before they have the whole place surrounded.

“Get on,” Yang says suddenly, in a way that really doesn’t leave much room for argument. “I’m your fastest ticket out of here.”

Blake fastens the helmet on as she swings a leg over the seat behind Yang. The blonde feels the other girl’s arms wrap around her torso. Her heart starts racing even faster. She isn’t sure why, but she plays it off to the sudden rush of adrenaline at being back on Bumblebee. The deep engine hum makes Yang grin despite herself.

“Hold on!” she calls over her shoulder, feeling Blake’s arms tighten around her as Yang peels out of the parking garage. She cuts the turns as tight as she can, grateful that she didn’t park on the top level. Her grip on the throttle tightens as she sees the only exit not closed off yet straight ahead.

She twists it towards her, increasing the speed as she sees in her peripheral a police cruiser racing to close it off.

“Come on,” Yang mutters under her breath to the bike. She can feel her heart hammering against her rib-cage, her whole body vibrating with the thrum of the bike between her legs.

They pull out of the exit lane and Yang banks a sharp left turn, just narrowly cutting out in front of the police cruiser and heading in the opposite direction.

“That was a little close, Yang!” Blake shouts over the roar of the wind, her voice muffled by the helmet. Yang doesn’t reply, but grins a little to herself at the surge of adrenaline that floods her system.

She focuses instead on weaving the bike through the late night traffic of downtown Vale. She can hear the police sirens wailing behind them as she dodges in and out between taxis, sedans, and sport cars. She narrowly cuts in front of a city bus as it makes an oncoming left turn. Blake’s arms tighten around her as the bus driver blares his horn angrily at them.

If she’s being honest with herself, Yang is still trying to figure out the fastest way out of the city. Her apartment was on the far edge of the residential district. If she could make it across the river that ran through Vale and cut through the commercial district, they could take lay low in Forever Fall for the night.

Assuming she could shake the cops, that is.

Yang swerves to miss an oncoming SUV as she blows through a red light, and narrowly misses a couple of pedestrians when she takes the next left. Even though her helmet muffles the sounds around her, Yang is acutely aware of the police sirens echoing throughout the city. The skyscrapers rush past them in an almost-blur. The wind whips at the strands of Yang’s blonde hair.

“You have a plan, right?!” Blake yells.

“Uh…” Yang takes a sharp right turn, only to see two police cars headed down that street towards her. She brakes hard, pulling a tight U-turn before pulling on the throttle again. “More or less!”

Yang knows Vale like the back of her hand, and the fact proves useful. There’s a dozen and a half ways to get to the bridge that crosses the river, and as Yang sees cruisers pop up left and right, closing off one option after another, Yang can’t help but feel grateful that she knows so many alternative routes. But she can feel her luck running out.

She has maybe two ideas left.

And then one.

And then none.

A cop car cuts through the intersection in front of her as she approaches it. Or at least, it _almost_ does. Out of nowhere, two of the wheels drop off the car and send it screeching and veering into the intersection. Sparks light up the four way stop like fireworks announcing Yang’s luck. Despite herself, Yang is staring at the scene unfolding because _what just happened?_ It’s not until she sees a familiar long red ponytail standing on the corner that she understands. She’s wearing a long coat and sunglasses despite the fact that it’s night, but Yang _knows_ that red ponytail.

 _Pyrrrha Nikos_. The girl with a polarity semblance, who could blow the tires off of cars with her eyes closed.

Yang lets out an excited cheer as she breezes through the intersection and sees the bridge. “Alright, Pyrrha!” She laughs with the sudden euphoria of relief. “Remind me to send that girl flowers.”

“You know her?” Blake calls over the wind, apparently having also noticed the girl on the corner.

“She’s a friend.”

The buildings whip past them as they tear their way through the streets of the residential district of Vale. There’s a chorus of angry car horns in their wake, but Yang is all too aware of the fact that while Pyrrha’s help came just in the nick of time, it probably only bought them a few seconds to spare.

She sees flashes of red and blue in her peripheral as she pulls onto the bridge across the river. The fractured moon reflects on the water. Briefly, Yang remembers riding on the motorcycle with her dad when she was a little girl and pretending they were racing the moon. She’d yell over the wind for her dad to go faster and faster.

Things are different now. Now she’s the one driving, going faster and faster, and as much as she wishes that all she’s doing is racing the moon, she knows she’s trying to outrun something _much_ bigger.

“Yang!” Blake shouts as the blonde narrowly dodges a taxi as they reach the other end of the bridge. “You’ve got two cars right behind you. Get as much distance between us and them as you can and I can throw them off our trail.”

Yang cuts a hard right turn. The smell of burnt rubber stings in her nostrils. “Yeah? Have a plan in mind?”

“More or less,” Blake replies, and Yang can’t help but laugh at her own words being thrown back at her. She does her best to put as much distance between them and the cops behind, zigzagging her way through traffic and taking as many turns as possible without completely derailing her target end-zone. They were in the commercial district now, the neon lights from the shops, clubs, and bars still open at this ungodly hour of the morning blur more or less into streaks of color passing them by.

It’s not much longer before Yang sees their exit location ahead of them. If they were going to pull off outrunning these last two cars, then it needed to happen before they left the city. Bumblebee was small and fast. Dodging and weaving was easier on the bike than in a car. It’s what gave her an edge and one of the biggest reasons—besides luck—that she’d managed to stay one step ahead of them so far.

But once they left the city? It was up in the air, and if Yang is being honest, she doesn’t love her odds.

“Now would be a good time, Blake!”

“On it!”

Yang feels one of Blake’s hands fist in her shirt as her other arm unwraps from the blonde’s torso. Yang feels Blake reach into the outside pocket of her go-bag that was strapped to her back. It takes Yang a second to remember what she had stashed in that pocket. A spare gun.

Before Yang can even think to tell her to stop, she hears the gunshot ring in her ears as they pull into another intersection. Suddenly, white steam is flooding the intersection. Tire screeches shriek left and right, a sweet smell that Yang immediately recognizes as ethylene glycol floods the air. Yang banks a left turn.

“What was that?”

Behind her, Yang actually hears the police sirens getting… _quieter_. Farther away.

“Blew the radiator off that sport sedan in the intersection,” Blake says, and Yang feels her shove the gun back into the pocket. “Figured it might give us enough cover, but sent a shadow in the other two directions just in case. It won’t fool them for long, but it should be enough.”

The response leaves Yang with more questions than answers, but she lets it go for now.

…

“We’ll camp here for the night.”

After Blake’s stunt, the two girls had managed to get out of the city fairly quickly. Yang rode a ways out into Forever Fall, including off-road for a bit, not wanting to take any chances and knowing all too well that the cops would be searching for them. She stops at a small, secluded clearing and cuts the engine. She’s distantly surprised when she can feel herself still shaking even after the bike stops vibrating beneath her.

The red leaves and grass are cast in silhouette in the dark, the limited light from the moon doing its best to filter through the trees. The quiet around them is vaguely startling. Her ears are still ringing from the roar of the wind, the blaring of car horns, the wail of sirens…

Yang’s racing heart skips a beat when she feels Blake’s arms unwrap from her torso. She’d almost forgotten they were there.

The blonde releases a slow breath, feeling the raw adrenaline start to edge out of her system. It’s only then that she realizes she’s still grasping the handlebars in the same white-knuckled grip from when she’d been riding. When she lets go, the leather of her gloves squeaks in protest.

She feels Blake get off the bike as Yang unfastens her helmet and pulls it off.

“You know how to start a fire?” Yang asks, climbing off the bike and nudging the kickstand down.

“Yes.”

“Here.” Yang shrugs off the go-bag and tosses it to the Faunus. “There’s some flint and steel in the front pocket. Also matches, if you’d rather.” She bounces a few times on the balls of her feet and shakes out the cramps in her hands. There’s a pull in her stomach that she can’t quite shake. “I’m gonna try to call Weiss and Ruby.”

She’d been so preoccupied with driving—living nanosecond to nanosecond—that she hadn’t had much time to spare to the other pair. But now? Now their safety is the _only_ thing she can think about.

She digs her scroll out of her pocket, walking out to the edge of the clearing. Her hands are still shaking a little but she presses on Ruby’s picture on the scroll. The three rings feel to Yang like the longest part of her night.

“ _Hi, Yang_!” At the sound of Ruby’s chipper voice, Yang sags a little in relief against a tree.

“Hey, Ruby. You guys okay? Did you make it out of the city?”

“ _Yep! Me, Weiss, even Zwei.”_ In the background, Yang hears Weiss ask, “ _Hey, is that Yang? Is she okay?”_

“Yeah,” Yang replies before Ruby can repeat the question. “Blake and I are as safe as can be expected right now. Where are you guys?”

“ _We headed mostly east. Somewhere in Forever Fall. They didn’t give us much of a chase.”_

Weiss’ voice chimes in again. “ _I think they sent most of the cars after you guys. You_ are _the bigger target, after all.”_

Yang nods even though they can’t see it. It makes sense. “You guys lay low tonight, okay? And stay alert. We’ll meet up tomorrow.”

“ _Sounds good_ ,” Weiss replies at the same time Ruby replies. “ _Roger that. How’s Blake?”_

Yang looks over her shoulder back at the clearing. Blake had already found firewood, and was using the flint and steel trying to get the fire lit. When she sees Blake look up at her, Yang turns back around. “She’s good. I owe her. I don’t know what she did, but she managed to help me shake last of the cops before we left the city.”

 _“Yang,”_ Weiss cuts in. “ _I hate to say this, but we should hang up, and everyone should turn their scrolls off. They could use it to trace us whenever it’s active. We’ve gotta keep these conversations short. We’ll see you tomorrow.”_

“Right. See ya guys.”

“ _Bye, sis! Love ya,”_ Ruby adds hurriedly.

The line cuts out, and as uneasy as it makes her to do so, Yang switches off her scroll. Weiss is right, of course. But the idea that if something goes south for them then Yang will be unreachable doesn’t do much to ease the tightness in her shoulders. With a heavy sigh, the blonde turns back to the campfire that Blake had gotten started.

Blake sits back from the flames as they catch the pile of wood. The firelight catches the darker tones of amber in her eyes as she looks up at Yang. “They okay?”

Yang clears her throat and takes a seat on the opposite side of the fire from Blake. “Uh, yeah. We’ll meet up with them tomorrow. It… makes more sense for everyone to just lay low tonight.”

Wordlessly, the Faunus nods. More than once, Yang thinks Blake might say something only to change her mind. The wood crackling between them fills the silence. Yang’s lilac eyes follow a flare of sparks up to the sky. It takes her back—for just a moment—to the nights that she and Ruby would go camping with their Uncle Qrow and he’d point out all the constellations. He’d make a few up, too, but she loved the stories he’d weave too much to call him out on it.

 “Yang,” Blake begins suddenly, interrupting her thoughts. “About earlier, in the parking garage…” She pauses and takes in a long breath.

Yang knows immediately what she’s talking about. _Blake. Do you trust me?_

“I shouldn’t have asked you that,” Yang interjects, folding her arms on the tops of her knees. She keeps her gaze trained on the flames that lick the cool night air. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that. It wasn’t fair of me.” Yang snaps a twig beside her and tosses it into the fire. “I don’t even know what I had been hoping for, really, when I asked you that question. The reason that you had been in the situation at the precinct was due to the fact that _I_ brought you in, in the first place. And you’ve only been out of there for…what? A day and some odd hours?”

“I owe you my life,” Blake says softly.

“No, you don’t.” Yang’s voice is just as quiet as Blake’s. “It wouldn’t have been in danger in the first place if not for me.”

“Yang, you were just doing your job.”

 _She’s defending me?_ Yang thinks, startled. She tries to mask her surprise, and her words come out harsher than she really means them. “Yeah. Well. Look how well that turned out.”

The blonde looks up at the girl across from her for a long moment. The wind rustles the leaves around them. A log topples over in the pile of burning wood.

Yang adverts her gaze and stands. “You should get some sleep, Blake. I’ll keep watch.”

“Yang…”

“We’ve got a long day tomorrow,” Yang continues, crossing over to her go-bag and grabbing a bottle of water and a knife out of it. “And I’m not gonna be able to sleep anyway.”

Yang can sense that Blake wants to argue, but the blonde is grateful when she doesn’t. Instead, Blake curls up and closes her eyes. Yang sits with her back to the fire and stares out towards the dark woods, running her knife along a stick beside her to sharpen it, mostly to keep her hands busy.

Less than a week ago, Yang Xiao Long was Vale Police Department’s leading detective on the highest profile case the precinct had seen in a decade. Now?

Now she was a fugitive.

…

**A/N: *hides my eyes, then peeks through my fingers* Whadjya think?**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Sorry for the wait. The time honestly just got away from me, what with summer job-hunting, some planning for this story, and trying to spend as much time with Masterpick as I can while he's home.**

**_Long_ chapter to make up for the wait. It’s kinda dialogue-heavy. Hope you guys don’t mind too much.**

**Endless gratitude to Masterpick. A wonderful writer, and a wonderful human being. Grateful to be his beta and to have him as mine.**

**…**

Yang wakes up with the sunrise as soft orange light filters through the red leaves of Forever Fall. Blake had woken up a few hours ago and insisted that Yang let her take over the watch so that the blonde could get some sleep. Initially, Yang had resisted. But stale adrenaline was edging out of her muscles and draining all of her energy with it. So Yang relented, but only after adding a few more pieces of wood to the smoldering fire.

She groans quietly to herself as she sits up. Her muscles protest as she stretches; her shoulders, thighs, and hands are particularly sore. Yang forgets why for a moment until she sees Bumblebee leaned up against the tree a few feet away and the entirety of events from the night before come crashing into her memory with a surprising amount of force.

It’s only a second after that Yang realizes Blake is gone.

Yang jumps to her feet, turning around and scanning the small clearing. “Blake?” she calls out, but hesitantly, careful to not be too loud. She’s met with nothing but the rustling of leaves overhead and the chirping of birds.

_She left?_

Then again, what had Yang been expecting? She’d gotten Blake out of the city. Was it so unreasonable that the Faunus would want to cut ties and put as much distance between her and…well, everyone, as soon as she could?

“Yang?”

The blonde whirls around to see none other than Blake, screwing the cap on a plastic water bottle with two others in her hand and a portable water filter tucked under her arm. Her bow was slightly skewed on the top of her head, her long hair disheveled, the bruise on her cheek from her interrogation sessions with Emerald and Mercury nearly gone.

“Blake,” Yang says. “Uh, good morning.”

Blake tosses her one of the water bottles. “I found a spring not too far and refilled the bottles we’d emptied last night. Ran it through the filter you’d packed. Figured we might need it for the trip to…wherever it is we’re going.”

Yang effortlessly catches it, but her gaze doesn’t leave Blake. She can’t help the flutter of relief that Blake hadn’t actually left. At least, not yet. “Oh. Yeah, good thinking.” Blake tilts her head a little, her gaze narrowing at Yang, and the blonde tries to recover by crossing over to her black backpack that was leaned up against a small rock.

She pulls out a granola bar for herself and then looks at the limited food she has. “Hey, Blake. Tuna or granola? Unfortunately, that’s all I pa—,”

“Tuna.”

Yang glances up at the girl. Blake’s eyes are bigger than Yang has ever seen them. She smiles, both amused and puzzled, and grabs a can out of her bag. She tosses it and a plastic fork to the girl a couple feet away. “Here. Go nuts. I’m gonna call Weiss and Ruby. I’ve got an idea for where to go.”

As Blake peels back the lid of the can, Yang digs out her scroll and walks a few feet away for some privacy. She sighs to herself. They’d gotten _extremely_ lucky last night to have avoided an attempted ambush. But that didn’t mean that Weiss and Ruby had managed to have the same fortune. And if they _had_ gotten caught, Yang wouldn’t know anything about it since they’d turned off scrolls.

Yang shakes her head a little to clear it before powering up her scroll and tapping Ruby’s picture. Her stomach rocks with uneasiness as it rings.

“Hi, Yang,” Ruby chimes.

“Hey, sis. Everything okay on your end?”

“Yep. Had to move locations in the middle of the night because Weiss saw a search crew, but she saw them before they saw us. We’re okay.”

Yang releases a breath, toeing the red leaves on the ground with her boot. “Awesome.” She glances at the time. She’s been on her scroll for about twenty seconds. “Gotta keep this short. I have an idea for a rendezvous.”

“You do?”

“Do you remember where you discovered your semblance eight years ago?” Yang doesn’t want to explicitly say it. It’s not an impossibility that they’ve got a wiretap, so it’s important she’s vague. Besides, Yang has every confidence that Ruby will know where she’s talking about. It’s a milestone in every person’s life when they discover their semblance.

“You mean—oh. Yeah, of course.”

“Meet us there.”

“Roger that.” Ruby hangs up before Yang, and the blonde quickly powers off her scroll. The whole conversation took less than two minutes. To triangulate a call through the Cross Continental Transit System within the same kingdom took about a minute and forty-five seconds. It’s a toss-up as to whether they’d been given enough time to do so for Yang or her sister, but Yang has no doubt that they would’ve at least tried.

It’s time to move.

“Blake. Time to move out,” Yang says, turning around only to see the girl licking the tuna off the lid of the can. Blake’s wide eyes flicker up to Yang as she sheepishly slips the lid into the empty can and slips it into the outside pocket of the backpack at her feet. She busies herself with trying to obscure the signs of the campfire they’d lit for the night.

 _Now for the hard part_ , Yang thinks wryly to herself as she turns to the orange-and-black motorcycle leaned up against the tree. Vale P.D would’ve put out an APB by now, and that doubtlessly included a description of the bike. They’d have to cover the distance on foot if they wanted to lay low, and Yang would do her best to hide the bike, although it would be hard with such bold colors. Pray she could come back for it at some point.

She walks it over to a flowering bush that was at the base of a tree and tucks it between the bark and the shrub. The red of Forever Fall helps a bit to obscure the orange color. At this point, Yang knows it’s the best she can hope for. She kisses her fingers and presses them to the seat.

“I’ll be back, sweetheart,” she whispers to it. Maybe it was silly to some, saying goodbye to a vehicle and promising to return, but her dad had bought her that bike when she was sixteen and taught her to ride on it. It’s one of the few pieces of home she’d brought with her when she moved to the city.

On top of that, she couldn’t help but feel like she owed her life to the bike in a way. Without it, she and Blake never would’ve made it out of Vale.

She crosses back to the clearing and slings the go-bag over her right shoulder. Blake had done a good job of hiding the remains of their fire. The ash had been scattered, and the charred log out of sight. “You ready?” she asks.

Blake nods. “Where are we going?”

Yang pulls a compass and small map out of the bag and wastes no time in moving. “Just follow me. We should be there before it gets dark if we hurry.”

The two girls walk in silence for a while. Yang doesn’t have a watch and her scroll is powered down, so she doesn’t have means of keeping track of time. She guesses around half an hour. Or maybe it just feels like it’s been that long, but either way, the silence that sits between them nudges at the back of her mind with increasing insistence. This was going to be a _long_ day if all they did was walk without talking to one another. Besides, Yang’s head was buzzing with questions she wanted to ask the Faunus. Like what her semblance actually _is_. Or why she did the crimes that she committed. Or how she knew so much about Yang when they first met on the roof of the condo building. Or why she only wanted to talk to her when she was brought in to the precinct.

The question that tumbles out of Yang’s mouth isn’t any of those. Or really any question that Yang had consciously been wanting to ask her. Yang doesn’t know what makes her ask. It’s such a… _normal_ question for the situation they were in.

“Do you have a family, Blake?”

When Yang glances at her—a red leaf catching briefly on the edge of her black hair bow before the breeze detaches it—she notices that her eyes are wide. “Uh…” She clears her throat. “Yeah, I do. I’m an only child, but my mom and dad live in Menagerie.”

Something about that surprises Yang. “What are your parents like?”

The corner of Blake’s mouth tugs upward in an almost-smile. “They’re… pretty normal. My dad is protective but level-headed. My mom is sweet and calm pretty much all the time. They… balance each other.”

Yang nods, kicking a rock out of the way. She knew what Blake was talking about; she’d seen a similar balance between her dad and Ruby’s mom. It makes her wonder briefly about her own mother. Yang has a vague feeling it wasn’t the same.

“What about your family?” Blake interrupts her thoughts, ducking under a low-hanging branch.

Yang swats a bug out of her face. “You already know about my family.” The memory of that night on the roof when she’d caught Blake comes into sharp focus for a moment. She’d known all about Ruby. Had even claimed to know about her mother….

Yang hasn’t quite decided if she wants to ask Blake about that before the Faunus replies.

“Ruby reminds me a lot of you.”

It’s not what Yang is expecting to hear. “Most people think we couldn’t be more different,” Yang confesses. “She’s quieter than I am.”

“Maybe. But you’re both mechanically-minded. I mean, she’s majoring in weapons engineering, and those gauntlets are your own creation, right?” At Yang’s nod, Blake continues. “Ruby might be a bit more…animated about mechanics, but you’re still similar in that way. You’re both creative. You both feel things deeply, from what I can tell. And I know that Ruby admires you a lot.”

“I admire her,” Yang replies after a moment. Dried, red leaves crunch under her boots as a branch catches on her sleeve. She tugs it loose. “Dad was a professor who gave speeches all around the world before he retired. A lot of the time it was just the two of us.”

The two girls reach the crest of a small hill, and Yang pauses for a moment. The red leaves blend into one another and as the sunlight refracts through the branches in the late morning light, Yang can’t help but feel there’s something unusually kaleidoscopic about it all. It left patterns of light on the ground, textured from layers of leaves and red grass.

Blake stands beside her. Both girls are quiet for a long moment before the Faunus is the one to break it. “Yang…” She hesitates. “What happened to Ruby’s mom?”

At the mention of Summer, Yang can’t help but smile faintly. The memory of the scent of freshly baked cookies is almost enough to overtake the earthy tones of the forest. “Do you remember that bomb that went off in Atlas fifteen years ago?” Yang doesn’t even have to wait for a response. _Everyone_ remembers that day. “Mom was in Atlas facilitating a cross-kingdom adoption when it went off. The bomb was in the next building over, but the blast brought both down.”

The wind rustling through the leaves and underbrush fills the brief silence. “I’m sorry, Yang.”

Yang ignores the platitude. Blake sounds sincere, but she doesn’t want to dwell on the subject any longer than she has to. Instead, she points a finger and outlines the path before them. “A mile or so that way and we should hit a stream, which we can follow most the rest of the way. We’re making good time so far.”

“Yang…”

She adjusts the strap on her backpack and starts down the hill, turning after a moment to call back up to the other girl, “You coming or what?”

…

“Yang.”

Hours later, Blake grabs Yang’s elbow and pulls her to a stop. The Faunus’s voice is quiet but urgent. The bow on top of her head twitches slightly.

“What?” Yang asks, lowering her voice to match the volume of Blake’s.

The Faunus holds up a finger to silence her. Yang clamps her jaw shut, feeling the lingering tension in her shoulders coil a bit tighter. Blake keeps her grip on her elbow, but she doesn’t look at the blonde. Instead, she’s looking out through the thick tree line. Her gaze narrows after a moment before she turns her attention back to Yang.

“Did you hear that?”

Yang’s brow furrows. “Hear what?” She glances around them, first following Blake’s gaze only to see…nothing.

When she looks back to where Blake had been standing, she’s gone. Vanished. Yang clenches her jaw in frustration and pulls Ember Celica out of her bag. She slips the gauntlets onto her wrists and activates them, preparing herself for a fight. Whatever Blake had heard had spooked her enough to run, which meant that whatever fight Yang was about to face wasn’t going to be pretty.

Yang hears them before she sees them. “ _Oh, that’s easy. All you really need to do is replace the spring and the release should be a lot smoother.”_

_“I already tried that, Amaranth.”_

The two figures that emerge behind the large gray boulder are both Faunus. Yang notices that almost as soon as she notices the notorious white-and-red masks. _White Fang._ One of them is a lot bigger than the other, with antlers jutting out from the top of his head. The other is smaller, and it’s not until they get a little closer that Yang sees the small scales that branch up her neck.

“Oh, look what we have here.” The reptile-Faunus has sharp green eyes that flash slightly with the sardonic bite in her voice. “Amaranth, looks like we found ourselves a human.” The other Faunus, whom Yang now knew was Amaranth, smirks and crosses his arms over his chest.

Yang has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “An astute observation.” Perhaps her tone is more abrasive than the moment really calls for, but if she’s being honest with herself, it’s been a long few days and Yang still isn’t sure where Blake went. Her patience is shot.

“Hey,” Amaranth barks, taking a step forward. “You don’t get to talk to Ivy like that. You better watch your tone. There are two of us and one of you.”

As she speaks, she gives them both an once-over to size them up. Amaranth is significantly bigger and heavier than Yang, but his size is all muscle. He shifts his weight slightly, tensing, his eyes taking in Yang just as much as she was taking in him. Ivy, on the other hand, is smaller than Yang. But her eyes keep glancing between Yang’s and Yang’s feet, which meant that she was likely a very mobile fighter.

Yang sinks her weight almost imperceptibly. “And if there were a few more of you, maybe it’d be an even fight.”

“You know, your kind has been underestimating us from the get go.” Ivy pulls out a long sabre from the sheath attached to her belt. “And we’re getting kinda tired of it.”

The new voice makes all three of them stop short. “ _Hey._ ” It cuts through the air like a knife. Not shrill, but commanding. Yang _knows_ that voice…

Amaranth and Ivy turn to look behind them, in the direction the voice had come from. Yang narrows her gaze at the figure that approaches them. _Blake?_ She has her hair bow off and tied around her wrist. Her cat ears are straight up, but there’s an ease in her step. A natural sway in her hips as she steps around the other two Faunus to stand between them and Yang.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Blake Belladonna.” For a moment, Yang is surprised that Blake actually gives them her real name until she sees the way the two other Faunus share a nervous glance.

Amaranth shifts his weight, but Ivy tries—and fails—to mask the nervousness. “Who?”

 “Here’s what you’re going to do,” Blake continues, undeterred. “You’re going to go back to your base camp, and you’re going to leave her alone. You’re going to forget that you ever saw us in the first place.”

Amaranth scoffs. “Yeah? And if we don’t? You know, _Blake_ , you don’t have the same power here that you used to. Your family is old news. And I think Adam is looking for you.”

 _Adam_ … Why did that name sound familiar to Yang?

“You left,” Ivy sneers. “As far as we’re concerned that make you as bad as being one of her.” She points an accusing finger at Yang, but her gaze and attention stays on Blake. “You’re a deserter.”

Yang can’t see Blake’s expression, but her mind is reeling regardless. Blake _had_ said during an interrogation that she used to be White Fang before she left, but the blonde hadn’t given it much thought since. It leaves Yang’s mind spinning with questions. _Why did she leave? Why did she join in the first place?_

“Just because I left the White Fang doesn’t mean I’ve lost any of the training,” Blake says. “I’m sure you’ve heard the stories, and I’m here to confirm them for you. So do you really want to try this? Because you aren’t getting to her without attempting to go through me first.”

Yang blinks. _Whoa._ It’s hard to tell who is more caught off guard by the lethal calm of Blake’s voice: Yang or the two White Fang members. If she’s being honest, Yang can’t help but feel grateful that Blake’s on her side this time.

There’s a long moment of silence. Blake doesn’t move, but neither do the other two Faunus. Yang’s shoulders stay coiled, ready for a fight. She’s pretty sure someone is going to throw a punch, but she’s not letting Blake fight these guys on her own.

The tense air around them breaks when Amaranth nudges Ivy’s shoulder. “C’mon, Ivy. It’s not worth it. The Lieutenant gave us an assignment after all. It’d be stupid to make him wait for something as trivial as these two.”

Ivy’s thin, slender lips pinch together. She shrugs Amaranth off. “Fine. You’re right,” she sighs in frustration. She turns her sharp eyes, barely visible through the white mask, back to Blake. “You’re _not_ worth it.”

Blake doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t move. Yang watches closely as the two White Fang members turn and walk away. It’s not until they’ve disappeared over the crest of the hill to the west that Yang breathes a sigh of relief. Blake finally turns around to look at her, unwrapping the hair ribbon from around her wrist.

“You all right?” Blake asks.

Yang nods, powering down Ember Celica and pulling them off her wrists. “Who were they?”

Blake’s amber-honey eyes lock briefly onto Yang’s lilac ones before she glances away. “White Fang recruits.”

“How did they know who you were?”

“I told you,” Blake says, and Yang hears the defensive edge leak into her voice. “I _used_ to be part of the White Fang. But I left.” The Faunus ties the ribbon quickly up in her hair around her ears. The countless questions buzzing in Yang’s head urges her to press a little more. But she sees the way that Blake won’t look her in the eyes, and she can’t bring herself to pressure her.

 _Maybe one day_ , Yang thinks to herself. She pulls a water bottle out of her bag. “You ready to go?”

In the corner of her eyes, Yang sees Blake’s shoulder sag almost imperceptibly. It confuses the her, but Blake replies before Yang can think too long on it..

 “Yeah. Ready when you are.”

…

The sun had just sunk below the horizon line. The sky’s red, orange, and purple hues almost blend into the red leaves of Forever Fall above them. Remnant’s shattered moon can be seen hanging low in the sky behind them as the two girls make their way through the woods. A cool evening breeze rustles the red underbrush around them, playing with the loose strands of Yang’s hair and the edges of Blake’s bow.

The uncomfortable silence that had stretched between them after their run-in with the two White Fang members had lasted longer than Yang would’ve liked. But after a while, they managed to find their back to easy conversation about nothing of major significance. Yang had learned that Blake loved books, particularly Morrison and a series called _Ninjas of Love_ , and preferred tea to coffee—unless, of course, they were talking about iced drinks, in which case Blake definitely preferred coffee over tea.

Yang talked about her dad teaching her to ride her motorcycle when she was sixteen. She talked about her favorite movies and family vacations she’d gone on when she was young. And that Yang preferred coffee across the board: hot or iced.

In fact, the two girls had talked until they’d exhausted their voices, which had happened about an hour ago. This time, the silence between them didn’t bother Yang so much.

“That’s it up there,” Yang says as the two of them reach the bottom of a hill. It’s hard to see as the sky gets darker, but through the tree line Yang could just barely make out the outline of the cabin at the top of the hill.

Yang smiles to herself, slightly short of breath. The run-in with the White Fang as well as a few other detours made to dodge search parties and campers had slowed them down a bit. They’d both wordlessly picked up the pace a bit over the last couple hours to make up for it.

When she glances at Blake, the corner of the Faunus’ mouth is turned up in an almost-smile.

They reach the top of the hill in about fifteen minutes. The cabin is small, made of the dark wood found in Forever Fall with a small porch and five windows on the front. The lights are all off. Yang’s stomach sinks a little at that fact; Ruby and Weiss were running even later than they were. Although, they _had_ said they’d headed mostly east. So they probably had a longer trip ahead of them. At least, that’s what Yang keeps telling herself as they approach the front door.

“What is this place?” Blake asks.

“My dad’s cabin,” Yang answers. “I’m not really sure why he has it. The three of us came here once or twice after mom died for vacation, but as the years went on, we stopped coming. When we asked why he kept it, he just told us it was ‘for emergencies’.” She reaches under the mat and grabs a key. The front door has five locks.

“You said your dad was a professor, though, right? Why would he need an ‘emergency cabin’?”

Yang had always wondered the same thing, but whenever she had tried to ask her dad he’d managed to side-step the question. “I’ve never been able to figure that out. Here, help me find all the keys.”

“What?”

“There are five locks on the door, but each key only opens one lock. The rest are stashed around the garden. Under pots, buried under the dirt, in the gutter… A security precaution.” _Five_ had always seemed like a bit much to Yang, but Blake doesn’t ask any more questions. In the span of fifteen minutes, the girls manage to find the other four keys.

Yang spends another ten figuring out what keys belong to which locks.

When they finally get the door open, Yang can feel the exhaustion seeping into her bones. All she wants to do is face plant into a bed and sleep for a millennium. She shrugs out of straps of the backpack, letting it land with a heavy _thud_ on the wood floor.

She nearly jumps when a familiar voice cuts through the darkness. A silhouette of a tall, slender figure with a messy mop of hair steps into the hallway and leans up against the wall. It pulls something out of its pocket. Even in the dim lighting, the silver glints a little. It’s a flask.

“Hey, Firecracker. Nice to see you’re in one piece.”

“Uncle Qrow?”

…

**A/N: Woo. Thoughts? Feelings? I know I made you wait a while and sorry for that but it’d mean so much to me to hear your thoughts!!**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: You guys mean the world. I have the best readers out there, I swear. Y’all are awesome, and thank you so much for sticking with me this far.**

**I started this chapter thinking it’d be lighthearted and kinda fun. And then the characters seemed to have their own ideas, and it got a little…heavy. Emotional processing and development ahead, but all related to things that have happened in the story thus far. Hope you guys like it.**

**An unbeta’d chapter ahead, but this is draft like… 3 or 4. Apologies for any mistakes.**

**…**

**_Previously_ **

_She nearly jumps when a familiar voice cuts through the darkness. A silhouette of a tall, slender figure with a messy mop of hair steps into the hallway and leans up against the wall. It pulls something out of its pocket. Even in the dim lighting, the silver glints a little. It’s a flask._

_“Hey, Firecracker. Nice to see you’re in one piece.”_

_“Uncle Qrow?”_

…

Qrow tips the flask towards Yang. “Sharp as ever.”

Yang stares at him for a moment, trying to piece together why she’s looking at her uncle in her dad’s old cabin she’d previously believed to be abandoned. “What are you doing here?”

Even in the dim lighting, Yang can see the wry smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth. “And here I thought you’d be happy to see your old Uncle Qrow.”

She shakes her head a little as a small, relieved laugh escapes her lips. “More than you know,” she confesses. She allows the confusion to give way to relief. Right now, Yang decides she doesn’t really care _why_ her uncle is there, even as unexpected as it is. She’s just glad that this unanticipated run-in is with a familiar and friendly face. After their narrow escape from the police raid the previous evening and their confrontation with the two White Fang members, Yang thinks she’s had about all of the negative surprises she can take for now.

“You know, your dad told me your sister was staying with you,” Qrow says.

At the mention of Ruby, Yang feels her shoulders tense all over again. She glances at her scroll tucked in the outside pocket of the black backpack at her feet. A part of her desperately wants to turn it on and call her, make sure they’re okay, but the other part remembers that if Vale P.D are able to trace the call… then they’re back to square one.

“Yeah,” Yang replies, “but we had to split up. We’re supposed to be meeting here. Ruby’s with one of my coworkers. Weiss Schnee.”

Qrow cocks an eyebrow, then pushes himself off the wall. “Huh. The Ice Queen’s sister. I didn’t know she was on the force.”

“Wait, you know Winter?”

He waves a hand. “We have a history. Anyway, I wouldn’t worry, Yang. Ruby’s scrappy like her Uncle. And if Weiss is anything like her sister, I bet they can handle themselves just fine.”

Yang sees her uncle’s deep red eyes glance over her shoulder as he takes another swig from whatever he has in that flask. “Oh,” Yang says, suddenly remembering that Blake was standing right behind her. “Sorry. Um, this is my uncle. Uncle Qrow, this is--,”

“Black, I take it?” There’s no real malice in Qrow’s voice as he ventures the guess, but Yang still frowns.

“Blake, actually,” she corrects. “Blake Belladonna.” She looks over her shoulder at the girl, whose amber-honey eyes look somehow sharper in the dark as her gaze narrows at Yang’s uncle.

“How do you know who I am?” Blake asks Qrow, her voice low and guarded. Yang stops short, surprised at just how different she sounds compared to a few hours ago when she’d been telling Yang about her take on the whole tea versus coffee debate.

Qrow crosses the short distance down the hallway between himself and the two girls. “Last I had heard,” he says, “my niece had quickly gone from the hero cop who brought in Vale’s Most Wanted to a vigilante fugitive on the run with the very criminal she’d help bring in.”

Yang blinks. “I can explain.”

“‘Last you heard’?” Blake shoots back at Qrow, ignoring the blonde. “Who’d you hear it from?”

Yang turns to face her, extending a hand in what she hopes is a placating manner. “Blake, it’s okay,” she says. Blake’s bow twitches slightly, her eyes narrowed before she sends a cautious glance at Yang. They lock eyes, and a moment later, Yang sees Blake’s shoulders relax ever so slightly.

When Yang looks back at her uncle, she’s grateful that he seems largely unbothered by Blake’s hostility. “We’ve… had a rough few days. Weeks really,” she offers as a feeble excuse anyway.

“Well, first things first, kid.” He reaches for the floor lamp and switches it on. Yang squints the sudden onslaught of warm, golden light that floods the room. “You hungry?”

“We’re starving.”

…

“That’s when he pulled me off the case and brought in these two people called Emerald Sustrai and Mercury Black to interrogate her. If you could even call it an interrogation…” Yang says almost an hour later. The three of them were sitting at the counter island in the middle of the otherwise small kitchen. A skillet sits forgotten in the sink and a plate with scraps of grilled cheese sandwiches rests between them.

Yang glances at Blake beside her again, but the Faunus had been silent through the entire time Yang had talked. More than once, walking through the story again reminded Yang of questions she’d wanted to ask Blake. But… not in front of her uncle, and not when Blake was already so on edge. Even with the brief glances, Yang could sense just how tightly wound the other girl was.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Blake shift uncomfortably in her seat at the mention of Emerald and Mercury. Yang’s stomach twists a little, her fingers curling around the cup of hot chocolate in her hands. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned it…

Qrow arches an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them. “Bad interrogators?”

Blake speaks for the first time in nearly an hour. Her quietness does nothing to soften the edge in her voice. “They knew how to…extract information.”

Yang swallows hard at the memory. She stares at the steam rising out of her cup, suddenly unable to meet either one of their eyes. “I think that Emerald girl used a deception projection semblance.”

If it hadn’t been dead silent in the cabin, Yang is sure she would’ve missed it. But she hears her uncle’s quiet and slow inhale. When she glances up at him, his eyes are clouded over and he’s looking at Blake. His expression softens almost imperceptibly.

“She knew you, didn’t she?” It’s not really phrased as a question. At Blake’s very faint nod, Qrow’s mouth pulls back into a thin line. “Those semblances are hard to fight. And if they know you, it’s even worse. The things they can make you see…” Qrow shakes his head, then looks at Blake again. “How’s the readjustment?”

Yang’s brow pulls together in confusion. “Readjustment?” She looks at the girl beside her, but Blake won’t meet her eyes.

Qrow sighs a little. “When someone screws with your head…makes you see things that aren’t really there…it can take a while to re-learn what is and isn’t actually happening.” There’s a heaviness to his words that surprises Yang. Qrow is usually the easy-going, light-hearted uncle.

Him being serious? That’s new to Yang, and if she’s being honest with herself, it does nothing to help the uneasiness in her stomach.

“But… the important thing is that what she saw wasn’t real. Right, Blake?” Yang asks, earnest. She isn’t sure if she’s asking more for herself or to remind Blake of the fact that it wasn’t real.

Qrow answers for her, his gaze lingering on Blake a moment before his crimson eyes meet Yang’s lilac ones. “No,” he says, but his voice is soft as if it might lessen the weight of them. “The _important_ thing is how what she sees makes her feel. That’s how they get to you. You see your worst nightmare unfold and it feels every bit of real because you are watching it with your own two eyes. You’re a witness whether it is ‘real’ or not.”

Yang’s blood runs cold as the memories of watching those sessions with Emerald and Mercury come back to her. _That’s_ why the name Adam had sounded familiar to Yang when the White Fang members mentioned him. All over again, Yang hears the way Blake’s voice had faltered when she’d been telling someone named Adam no. The way she’d sobbed when Emerald had involved her parents.

“I’m okay, sir,” Blake says in response to Qrow’s initial question.

She sounds like she means it, and Yang tries to anchor herself to that even as she can feel tears pressing against her eyes. She’d been so focused on the next step, and the next one after that, that she hadn’t given herself much time to think back on anything. And now? Now, she couldn’t believe how much had slipped past her, or how many things had fall through the cracks as she tried to keep everything moving forward. Sure, she’d made sure that her cuts were clean and no bones were broken, but… she hadn’t even _asked_ about how Blake was doing otherwise…

_Had she really put so little thought into Blake’s mental recovery from everything that had happened?_

“Call me Qrow, Blake. ‘Sir’ makes me feel old.”

_Had she really been a part of the group of people that did that to her?_

“Yang?”

_Why didn’t she step in sooner?_

“Firecracker, you all right?”

Yang shakes her head and fights the urge to blink. If she blinks, she’s pretty sure it’ll make some of the tears fall, and she doesn’t want that. Not right now. “Yeah,” she says hollowly. “I’m just tired. I’m… I’m gonna get some sleep.”

“Take the first room on the left at the top of the stairs,” Qrow tells her, his voice sounding distant in Yang’s ears even as she pushes back from the counter and hurries out of the kitchen.

…

A few minutes later, Yang hears a soft knock on her door. She’s sitting on the edge of the full sized bed in the middle of the room, quickly brushing the few stray tears off her cheeks. The room is dim; Yang had only turned on the small lamp on the desk by the door. She has one of her gauntlets in her hands as she runs a cleaning rag over it. The other sits beside her on top of a cream white comforter.

“Come in,” she says.

The light oak door opens slowly, and Blake steps into the room. Her black tank top she’d been wearing when they fled Yang’s apartment two nights ago has streaks of dirt and mud caked into it from their time spent in Forever Fall. Her hair is knotted and tangled, the bow fraying on the edges. One of the loops of it is drooped just enough for the very tip of one of her cat ears to be visible.

“Hey, Yang. You okay?” Her alto voice sounds softer than Yang can ever remember it being.

Yang’s gaze falls back to the gauntlet in her hand. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Blake doesn’t respond. Yang keeps her eyes trained on the work her hands are doing in front of her, but she hears the faint creaking of floorboards as Blake crosses the room. The bed dips beside her as she takes a seat. Their knees brush for just a moment.

“You’re the one who got me out of there, you know,” Blake says after a moment. “If it weren’t for you, who knows what would be happening to me right now.”

Yang shakes her head. She tosses the gauntlet beside the other one. The clatter sounds loud in the room, as if adding emphasis to how quietly the girls had been speaking. It’s like the conversation they almost had last night, and Yang feels a little dumbfounded that Blake seems insistent on defending her. “I can’t believe you’re practically thanking me.”

“Somebody should.”

“I—“

“Yang, you gave up everything.” She pauses, then releases a breath. Yang keeps her gaze trained on the corner of the oak dresser across the room. Blake’s next words land softly between them. “I’ve… never had anybody willing to do what you’ve done for me before.”

The silence that follows seems to echo against the light blue walls. The confession rings in Yang’s ears until she eventually breaks the silence. Her voice is quiet and reluctant. Afraid that asking the wrong thing will send the girl sitting next to her out the door. “Blake, can I ask you a personal question?”

Blake doesn’t respond, and Yang is already mentally kicking herself for bringing it up. But when she glances at the Faunus, she sees Blake nod.

Before she can lose her nerve, Yang lets the question tumble out of her mouth. “Who is Adam?”

The bed creaks slightly as Blake shifts. The Faunus sits back and pulls her knees up, and Yang can see her toes curling a little inside the white socks she’s wearing. When she speaks, Blake’s voice is quiet and careful. Yang holds her breath as if breathing too loud might keep Blake from sharing the answer.

“Adam was… someone very close to me who…changed. Subtly, at first, and then… eventually, to the point where I just couldn’t ignore it anymore.” The quiet chirp of crickets residing outside under the stars can be heard through the thin window beside the headboard of the bed. “He started hurting people. Innocent people.”

Yang wants to ask if he hurt _her_ , but she remembers how Blake had physically flinched when she’d hallucinated him, and Yang’s pretty sure she knows the answer. For a moment, she thinks the nausea might give way to anger, but the Faunus interrupts her thoughts, oblivious.

“And I left. Like you did, Yang.”

“What?” Yang finally looks up at Blake. The soft, golden light from the lamp catches the lighter shades of honey in her irises.

“When you felt that something wasn’t right, when you knew people were getting hurt… you left.” Blake averts her gaze. A few strands of hair fall past her ear and across her face. Yang has an odd desire to brush them away, but she doesn’t. “And you did it a lot sooner than I did.”

“Blake…”

“We should get some sleep,” Blake says, the gentle curve of her mouth tugging upwards in an almost-smile. Yang lets her gaze fall back to her hands as the other girl stands and takes a few steps towards the entryway. It feels like an abrupt absence, almost like something is missing, when Blake walks away.

She stops just shy of the door, opening it and looking back at Yang. “Sleep well, Yang. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Yang can’t help but feel like it’s a promise.

“Sweet dreams, Blake.”

…

**Okay, so a bit of a shorter chapter. But… a heavy one, in a way, I think? I’d love to hear your thoughts on it!! I'm kinda anxious about what you guys thought for this chapter, to tell you all the truth. Meep. *covers my eyes***

 


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, again. Had trouble finding both time and brain power to line up. Additionally, having weaponless combat between characters that have never fought one another in canon meant lots of research and fight-style analyzing, since I wanted the styles to be as close to canon as possible. Hope it paid off; either way, I am glad to finally have this chapter in your hands, dear readers. Thank you so much for all of the feedback. It really means the world.**

**Deepest thanks to Masterpick, my ever patient-with-my-impatience beta.**

…

When Yang wakes up the following morning, the first thing she looks at is the digital clock on the dresser. It’s a long-standing habit; one that she picked up way back while she was still attending the police academy and would have to run laps if she showed up late. She used to think back to her days at the academy with a sort of nostalgic fondness. Now it just left a sour taste in her mouth.

 _10:03 AM_. Yang groans and runs a hand down her face. She hadn’t slept in that much in… months. She couldn’t even actually remember when. Most days, 8:00 was running late already. But she didn’t have any place to actually be anymore. It felt… wrong, although Yang had to admit that the extra sleep had helped ease the tightness in her muscles and fogginess of her thoughts.

She sits up in the full-sized bed and runs a hand through her hair. Or… tries to. Her long blonde hair is a tangled mess and she winces as her fingers catches on the knots. She really needs to brush her hair. And she should probably shower. But as her stomach grumbles embarrassingly loud, Yang decides the shower can wait until after she gets a full meal in her system.

She blearily rubs her eyes before throwing the covers off and padding her way quietly to the kitchen. As she gets closer, she can hear a faint and tinny voice and what sounds like sizzling. Turning the corner, she sees her uncle’s back to her as he stands at the gas stovetop. An open carton of eggs sits on the counter beside him, and a small radio is perched on the shelf next to the hood above the stove.

“Morning, Uncle Qrow,” Yang says as she sits on the barstool at the counter island.

“Ah, one’s awake. Eggs over easy, right?” he replies, offering a faint smile over his shoulder. Yang smiles appreciatively back and nods.

“Yeah,” Yang answers tiredly.

“Coming right up.”

Yang leans her chin in her hand and leans against the counter. Given how quiet it was, Yang knew that the radio was on more for background noise than anything. The radio static was almost louder than the voices coming through. If she’s being honest, Yang feels a little surprised that he had managed to find a station out here in the middle of Forever Fall to begin with.

 “ _Thank you, Mr. Alastair. In other news, Nick Mortroach of the Vale Police Department has announced he will be giving a statement to the citizens of Vale regarding the search for fugitives Black and Yang Xiao Long following their dangerous flight out of the city two nights ago.”_

The words jolt her more awake than the cup of coffee she had been thinking of pouring herself. Yang sits up a little straighter, her ears straining to make out the words through the muffling static.

“ _Our reporters are on the scene as we speak. Any moment now….”_ Yang frowned as she static momentarily overtook the words. “ _…out now. We’ll turn it over to our live reporters.”_ Yang watches as Qrow reaches a hand up, but towards the side of the radio where she can see the on/off switch.

“Uncle Qrow,” Yang interjects hurriedly. “Don’t… don’t turn it off. Could you turn it up, actually?”

Yang can see the debate wage in his crimson eyes. “You sure, kid?”

“I deserve to know what they’re saying about us,” she says firmly, her lilac gaze bold and defiant. “Please.”

Qrow hesitates a moment longer. His shoulders sag a little with a sigh as he relents, his hand shifting over to the volume dial and turning it up a few notches. Even through the white noise of the radio static and the tinny quality of the radio speakers, the voice is still unmistakably Mortroach’s. It makes Yang’s stomach twist.

“ _We have every confidence that Black and Xiao Long are outside the limits of the city. That being said,  we will use every resource available to find them. The safety of this city is our number one priority.”_ Yang’s breathing is shallow, not wanting the noise of breathing deeply to cause her to miss something. “ _We recognize that the people of Vale are scared. Xiao Long’s betrayal cuts this city deeply. I will not lie to you, good people of Vale, Xiao Long and Black are dangerous criminals. That is why we are calling for every citizen to be vigilant. Report suspicious behavior. Do not allow yourself to be manipulated. Most of all, trust us. The Vale Police Department is on top of the case, and we will not rest until those traitors are brought to justice. They are cowards for running, but we will not let them get away.”_

Yang clenches her jaw. Trust them? Trust _them_?

“I’m a traitor and _coward_?” Yang doesn’t know if her eyes are red but she certainly feels angry enough. “That son of a—,”

Qrow switches off the radio. “I think this is where your dad would say ‘language’.” He’s trying for a smile but Yang can barely see straight, let alone appreciate the attempt at humor.

“I’m not a traitor and I’m not a coward,” Yang grits out, her hands clenching into fists.

Qrow looks at her with an expression she can’t quite read. She doesn’t know what her uncle sees, but Qrow shifts the skillet off the burner and flips it off. Yang doesn’t mind. She’s too furious to try to eat anymore anyway.

“You need to blow off some steam,” Qrow says as he turns back to his niece. He jerks his head towards the back door. “Come on.”

…

Yang catches Qrow’s foot mid-kick in her crossed arms and deflects it. Her uncle recovers with a back handspring, ending crouched with his hand on the ground to steady him. Yang isn’t sure how long they’ve been out here sparring, but her uncle has a sheen of sweat on his forehead and she can hear him breathing even with the distance the back handspring gave him. Her earlier frustration now barely a lingering thought in the back of her mind.

Yang grins at her uncle. “Am I wearing you out, Uncle Qrow?”

Qrow chuckles. “No more than usual.”

He uses his crouched position to launch himself at her, but Yang had seen the slight tensing of his shoulders before the movement and is ready for it. He moves to punch at her face and Yang dodges it before throwing a sharp jab of her own. Qrow blocks it with his forearm and propels her back a few steps. Yang slides but quickly regains her footing.

As the two spar, Yang can’t help but feel Forever Fall looks different around the cabin. Brighter, somehow. The small clearing leaves Yang able to notice the sparse clouds that float by overhead and the sunlight streams in unblocked by the foliage of the trees. It shines on the leaves—assorted shades of red and brown—that litter the ground.

They crunch under her boots as she sidesteps her uncle’s kick. In one swift movement, she ducks and spins, kicking a leg out and throwing Qrow off balance. Yang knows that it wasn’t the most cleanly executed move on her part, and Qrow follows the momentum with a roll and jumps back up to his feet.

Then the back door to the cabin opens.

Yang stops and looks over to see Blake, her hair dripping slightly from a shower, slip through the door. Qrow must’ve left her some old clothes he’d found in storage, because she’s wearing white shorts and a thin, worn sweatshirt. Yang blinks when she realizes it’s an old one she’d thought she lost years ago. She must’ve left it once while on vacation here.

She doesn’t mind. It looks better on Blake anyway.

Suddenly, Yang feels her legs swipe out from under her. She hits the ground hard, blinking dazedly up at her uncle who stands above her with a small, amused smile. He offers a hand and helps pull Yang to her feet. He winks at her. Yang isn’t sure why.

“Getting slow in your old age, Firecracker?”

Yang laughs and pushes his shoulder. “Still faster than you.” She can feel Blake’s gaze on her, and she tosses a friendly smile at the Faunus who stands outside the door and folds her arms, leaning against the outside of the cabin. She looks back at her uncle. “One more round?”

Qrow stretches his neck. “I’ve got some things to attend to,” he says, then looks over at the girl by the door. “Blake, you wanna take my place?” Blake blinks, and Yang feels a ping of surprise as well.

“Uh,” Blake says. “Sure.” She pushes herself off the exterior wall of the cabin and tugs the sweatshirt over her head. Underneath is a fitted dark violet t-shirt.

Qrow caps a hand on Yang’s shoulder before he heads back to the cabin, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t go easy on her, Blake!”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of Blake’s lips before they hear the door swing closed with a sharp crack. Yang takes the spare rubber band she’d found before she started sparring with her uncle and ties her hair up. Blake’s hair is long and still wet.

Yang cocks an eyebrow as she pulls her ponytail tight. “Guess you should’ve waited on the shower, huh?”

There’s an almost playful glint in Blake’s eyes as she stands in front of her. “Who says I’m even going to break a sweat?”

The quip surprises Yang, but she grins and laughs a little in response. “Bring it, Belladonna.”

The two girls stand there for a moment. Yang knows that Blake is sizing her up just as much as she’s sizing Blake up. She sinks her weight a little, her eyes flitting over Yang’s form. Yang feels the tension ease into her muscles in anticipation. It suddenly occurs to her that while she’s _chased_ Blake before, she’s never actually had much hand-to-hand fighting interaction with her. She has no idea how the girl fights.

Yang figures surprise would at least give her a brief advantage.

She launches herself across the short distance between them and moves to kick her left foot out at the same time. Blake is ready for her, though, and rolls out of the way. She jumps back up to her feet fluidly. Yang lands firmly on her feet and whirls around to the other girl. Blake’s amber-honey gaze is quick and calculating.

Even though she’d dodged Yang’s kick, Blake is still within her reach. Yang throws a few quick jabs, and Blake manages to duck and dodge her way around them, creating space that Yang then moves to close between them. The way she glides and moves around her as the two girls spar strikes Yang, in the back of her mind, as surprisingly graceful. Flexible.

Yang’s next punch lands squarely against Blake’s jaw… and then Blake disappears. Yang blinks for a second before she remembers. _Right. Her semblance_. It was a clever move, Yang admits. She hears the crunch of leaves behind her and spins around. Blake still has that careful, calculating tint to her eyes. She hasn’t even thrown a punch yet.

“Are we sparring or playing a game of tag?” Yang asks teasingly.

Blake’s mouth quirks. So fast that Yang almost doesn’t have time to block it, Blake closes the distance between them and throws a series of jabs on her own. Yang’s arms come up to block the ones directed at her face, but she feels some of the wind forced out of her lungs as Blake lands a sharp kick to her stomach.

“Tag, you’re it,” Blake replies with a teasing smirk.

Yang smiles and shakes her head, then swings around a roundhouse kick. Blake blocks the kick and grabs Yang’s foot, using it to throw her off balance. Yang jerks her leg out of Blake’s grip as she starts to fall, swinging it to catch the back of Blake’s knees. She sidesteps it in the nick of time, and Yang manages to catch herself before she hits the ground.

Blake stands there, crouched slightly on the balls of her feet. Yang moves—low center of gravity, legs spread apart—before moving to deliver several quick kicks in succession. She realizes only a second before she feels her other leg knocked out from under her that the Blake she thought she was about to kick was actually just another copy from her semblance.

Yang hears a twig snap under her as she hits the ground, dark spots crowing her vision for a moment. She feels a weight on her hips. She blinks hard, shaking her head to clear her vision. Blake comes into focus, sitting on top of her hips. Blake’s violet, form-fitted t-shirt moves slightly with the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Her honey eyes widen, her long hair now a tangled mess of wet locks and dust.

“Yang? Are you okay?”

With the position Blake is in on top of her, it wouldn’t take much to throw her off. All she’d need to do is buck her hips to make Blake fall forward. Lock down her wrist, anchor her leg, and roll. She lost track of how many times she’d learned to do it from her dad, and then again in training. But something stops her.

The reflection of the bright red leaves of Forever Fall catch in Blake’s eyes, and they suddenly look like a kaleidoscope of gold and honey and scarlet reflecting and refracting in the late morning sun. They stand out against the soft paleness of her skin and the dark strings of her bangs that fall into her face and stick to her forehead. Even despite the wetness of her hair and their sparring match, her bow sits unruffled on the top of her hair.

“Yang?”

“Blake, how does your bow stay on top of your head?” Yang asks, suddenly intrigued.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your bow,” Yang says, nodding to it. “Even though we were just sparring, it hasn’t deflated or been knocked off your head. I mean… how do you do that?”

Blake laughs a little, reaching a hand up to touch it softly. “Lots of practice, I guess.”

Yang is quiet for a moment. “You know you don’t have to wear it anymore, right?”

Blake frowns, a small crease appearing between her eyebrows. “I… um…”

“You can if you want to,” Yang adds hurriedly. “I just… uh…” Yang remembers again what the bartender at that club she’d gone to with Velvet had said. _Most of them find ways of hiding their Faunus features during the day—hats, gloves, stuff like that._ Or bows, as the case might be. But the idea that Blake feels a need to hide that around her… bothers Yang. For reasons she suddenly can’t articulate.

“Seems like a lot of trouble to go to everyday,” Yang finishes lamely.

“It’s…um… it’s really not that big of a deal,” she replies quietly. Blake glances down and Yang immediately wishes she’d just kept her mouth shut.

After a moment of silence, Yang realizes that Blake is still sitting on her hips.

Blake seems to realize this at the same time Yang does, because Yang _swears_ she sees a faintly pink shade appear on the other girl’s cheeks as she gingerly shifts off from on top of her. Yang sits up and Blake stands. She offers her a hand and Yang smiles as she accepts it and lets Blake help pull her to her feet.

“You’re quick on your feet,” Yang comments, hoping to break the suddenly uncomfortable silence that lingers between them.

“You throw a hard punch,” Blake replies, that almost-smile returning to her lips. Yang feels a faint flush of relief.

She’s about to reply—to ask if Blake wants to head inside for some food—when they hear it. The quiet rustle of foliage back behind a few trees to the west. Yang exchanges a glance with Blake and is debating whether she should run inside and get her uncle or Ember Celica when she hears a familiar voice.

“ _Ruby, I really don’t think Myrtenaster needs any modifications. It’s a multi-action Dust Rapier.”_

 _“Really? Whoa, that’s so cool!”_ Yang doesn’t even try to stop the wide grin that stretches across her face at the sound of her sister’s bubbly excitement. She crosses the small clearing just as Weiss, Ruby, and Zwei appear, pushing their way between two red bushes. Yang grabs her sister and squeezes her in a hug.

“Yang!” Ruby exclaims even as she’s lifted off the ground in the embrace. “I’m so glad you guys are safe!”

Yang ruffles her sister’s short dark hair before looking at Weiss. “Did you guys have any trouble?”

Weiss shrugs. “Lots of redirecting to avoid search parties or stragglers. Sorry it took us so long. Your sister isn’t great with directions.”

“Hey!”

Yang grins and shakes her head. “Come on inside. We’ve got food and hot showers. Plus, there’s… actually someone here who probably wants to see you, Ruby.”

…

**A/N: So… I know this wasn’t a particularly _exciting_ chapter, but I really hope you guys liked it anyway. Let me know with some feedback? It’d mean more to me than you know. **


	23. Chapter 23

 

**A/N: Long Author’s Note ahead, but I have a lot that I feel the need to say. Please bear with me.**

**I saw on Tumblr that one of you has enjoyed this story so much as to take the time, energy, and attention to detail as to make fanart for it. If you have a tumblr, go check it out either on my RWBY blog at** flagbearer-or-scouts **, or at the extremely talented source artist** lillylux **. Thank you, again, lillylux. From the bottom of my heart, and with as much sincerity as a person can have.**

**Also, I am positively overjoyed at how many of you told me you only just now joined this crazy ride. Whether you’ve been with me since chapter 1 or are just joining us now, hold tight, friends. We’ve still got quite a bit of crazy ahead of us.**

**My enduring, endless thanks to Masterpick for his time as well. Nobody else I’d rather beta this.**

…

“Weiss, you left out the part about the bridge almost breaking.”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, Ruby.”

Ruby sits with her face half-stuffed full of noodles at the kitchen island, Weiss beside her. Weiss’s shoulders are pulled back with the same dignified elegance she always has, but Yang notices the weight in her voice and it occurs to her just how tired the two girls must be. Ruby’s shoulders are tense with lingering adrenaline, but the way she blinks hard and shakes her head subtly betrays the exhaustion she’s clearly trying to hide. Even Zwei is tired, having curled up on the couch to sleep as soon as everyone got inside.

“What?” Ruby says. “C’mon, Weiss. I saw your face when the planks creaked under your feet.”

Weiss waves a hand. “You were seeing things.”

Yang bites back a smile at the way Ruby visibly has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “ _Anyway_ ,” her sister continues, “So we’re trying to cross this bridge, right? And Weiss thinks she hears rustling or something and pulls out Myrtenaster—,”

“I thought you said you kept it in storage?” Yang interrupts. She’d seen Weiss use the rapier once or twice, but she usually stashed it somewhere else. She’d always said ‘in storage’ whenever Yang asked where it was.

Weiss lifts a shoulder. “I guess I really meant my car.” The rapier in question lies on the counter in front of her. Weiss reverently trails thin fingers around the handle. “I never really felt much of a need for it very often, so it seemed impractical to carry it on my person at all times.”

Ruby purses her lips, her hand falling to Crescent Rose, folded up and hooked to her belt. “I don’t think I could leave Crescent Rose just sitting in my car.”

Weiss rolls her eyes. “Myrtenaster has much more… subtlety than your giant curved butcher knife.”

“Hey!”

Qrow cocks an eyebrow, leaning up against the counter with his arms folded in front of him. “Scythes come in handy. You’d be surprised.”

“It’s also a gun,” Ruby adds with a grin.

Yang smiles to herself at the banter, but shakes her head. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You guys said you saw some search parties?”

Weiss turns suddenly solemn, light blue eyes on Yang. “Yes, but they didn’t seem too interested in us, if they even saw us at all. I think they were specifically looking for you two.”

Yang nods as Blake speaks up. “It makes sense, I guess. I’m a little surprised we didn’t have more of a problem with them, to be honest.”

“Weiss and I also saw some White Fang guys last night,” Ruby says. “They didn’t see us, though, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Yang glances over at the window above the sink. The late afternoon sun filters through the red foliage and leaves broken, disjointed shapes on the hardwood floor and granite counter. Weiss huffs. “Those White Fang psychopaths make my skin crawl.”

Yang freezes for a second, suddenly hyper-aware of Blake leaned against the wall slightly behind her. Weiss knows that Blake is a Faunus—she’d had her bow off when she’d watched the interrogation session with her, after all—but she didn’t know if Weiss knew about Blake’s connection to the White Fang. Regardless, Yang practically feels Blake tense behind her.

“That seems a bit strong,” Blake says in a tight, guarded voice. Yang spares a glance over her shoulder at the girl behind her. She can’t read Blake’s expression.

Weiss shakes her head adamantly. “Trust me, that’s being _kind_.”

A part of Yang winces internally. _Oh no_.

“I just think that kindness would entail some level of trying to understand them.” Yang thinks she can _hear_ the restraint Blake is trying to maintain, but her incredulity leaks through regardless.

Weiss’s icy eyes flash. “ _Understand_ them? Understand why they kill people who did nothing to them, just because they’re human? Understand those who killed my own flesh and blood while they were on the front lines defending innocent people? They can’t _be_ understood.” She shakes her head in disgust, then looks Blake up and down. “What are you even trying to say here? Do you sympathize with those terrorists?”

“No! That’s not…” Blake releases a harsh sigh. “Never mind.” Behind her, Yang hears Blake take a few steps towards the hallway, out of the kitchen.

“Blake and I will clean up.” The words tumble out of Yang’s mouth before she can think about them. A part of her feels a small swell of relief when Blake’s retreating footsteps stop, but the relief quickly gives way to a small note of guilt. If Blake needs space, Yang knows she should let her take it. “If… she wants to help, that is,” Yang amends. “Weiss and Ruby, you guys should grab a nap.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice, sis.” Ruby yawns. “I feel like I could nap for days.”

Weiss purses her lips, her expression unreadable even as she glances at Blake before sliding off the barstool. “Sleep in a real bed _would_ be nice,” she admits.

Qrow pushes himself off the counter and stretches his neck. “You guys can take the rooms that are left. Upstairs, end of the hall.”

The girls don’t need much more encouragement. Soon, they vanish to sleep off the deep-seated exhaustion. Qrow also quickly makes himself scarce, mumbling something about organizing a record collection as he grabs the silver flask off the corner of the counter. The silence that lingers in the kitchen feels heavy to Yang. She can feel Blake’s eyes on her even as Yang walks over to the sink and turns the hot water faucet.

She puts the plug in the drain and drizzles soap as it fills. Behind her, she hears the clatter of ceramic and metal. Yang isn’t sure what to say. Should she apologize for what Weiss said or change the subject all together? Somehow, neither one of those options feels right.

A part of Yang wants to agree with Weiss. The countless, devastating attacks the White Fang initiated against innocent people… she can’t condone that. She can’t even make sense of it. When there’s so much death that _lives_ become synonymous with _statistics_ … how is someone supposed to justify it? It’s easier, Yang thinks, to categorize it all as psychotic or senseless or irrational.

_Easier, but incomplete._

“Is that how she really feels?” Blake asks, her voice suddenly right next to Yang. Yang jumps slightly, but recovers and turns the faucet off.

“Who, Weiss?” Yang asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. She takes the bowl Blake hands her and sighs. “It’s… complicated.” She plunges the dish in to the hot soapy water. For a moment, the quiet splashing and fizz of bubbles is the only sound that fills the kitchen.

“I left, you know,” Blake says eventually. There’s an earnestness in her voice that catches Yang off guard.

Her lilac eyes flicker over to Blake’s. “I know, Blake.”

She sees Blake’s long, slender fingers curl tightly around a small handful of forks. “I _left_ , and I’ll never go back. But…” Blake’s fist rests on the granite countertop and she leans her weight into it. She cuts herself off, shutting her eyes. Yang sees her jaw clench.

 _There’s a reason she joined_. Yang isn’t entirely sure what about this moment makes her realize that fact. She supposes that she’d always known in the back of her mind, but she hadn’t really thought much about it. Yang had always focused more on the fact that she’d left—and why—that she hadn’t really stopped to think about why she joined in the first place.

Yang remembers the fire she’d seen in Sun’s eyes when he’d been singled out by the precinct following Blake’s escape. Accused of sympathizing with her just because he was Faunus. And what had he said? _This just… happens more often than you might think_. Sun was perhaps the most easy-going person Yang had ever met in her life. If he could get that fired up over something like that… maybe it was a bigger issue than Yang had realized.

Yang sets the bowl on the drying rack and looks at Blake again. This girl beside her… she’s subdued, perhaps, but no less passionate. Yang knows this. She might only have gotten to know Blake over the past handful of days— _had it really only been a few days?_ —but Yang felt that this was as evident about her as her pale skin and long, dark hair. Yang’s soft eyes dance over the girl’s exposed arms and notices the scars and mostly-gone bruises. Her eyes follow up her arm, the curve of her shoulder, up to her dark bow. _She wears it to hide the fact that she’s Faunus._

Yang sighs. She should have put the pieces together sooner.

“Did I ever tell you about the moment I first knew I wanted to be a police officer?” Yang asks.

Blake’s confused silence rings louder than the quiet piano melody, soft singing, and unique static of vinyl. Apparently, Uncle Qrow had been serious about reorganizing his record collection. The girl beside her shakes her head a little.

“Well, I suppose it would be more accurate to say it was the culmination of a lot of different moments. Like when I was seven and my best friend got pushed on the playground by a bully. I socked him in the mouth, and my principal said that while it was good I stood up for my friend, I needed to find the ‘right way’ to do it.”

At Blake’s silence, Yang offers another example. “When I was ten and saw some bigger kids pushing around this kid because he had a lisp and I felt powerless to stop them because they were a lot bigger than I was. I tried anyway and sported a black eye and sprained wrist for my trouble.” Yang smiles wryly at the memory. “Or when I was sixteen, and these guys in their twenties were harassing some girls I knew to the point that they were afraid to go anywhere alone. The police handled it. Kept those girls safe.”

Blake still isn’t looking at her, and Yang sighs again. “I joined because I felt I could make a difference that way. And for a long time, I did.” _We’re not as different as you want to make us out to be_ , Yang wants to say. She doesn’t.

Blake takes a breath, like she’s about to say something, and then releases it in a slow exhale. Yang suddenly wants to know what she had been about to say, but Blake offers her the forks in her hand and the blonde takes them and grabs the sponge on the sink. She scrubs them clean even as the silence sits like an anchor between them: big and heavy.

Three bowls and two knives later, Yang can’t take the silence anymore. “Blake?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re being quiet. Quieter than usual.” Yang glances at her out of the corner of her eye. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Blake hesitates as she hands her the last bowl. “You didn’t mention your birth mother,” she finally says.

Yang stops short. The maroon bowl almost slips from her hands. “I—uh, what?”

 “Just now, you were telling me why you joined Vale P.D. But… you didn’t mention your mother. She was part of why you joined, wasn’t she?”

Yang feels like her blood turns to ice and she plunges her hands and the bowl into the hot water as if it might warm her somehow. She hadn’t been ready for that question, but after a moment Yang realizes she probably shouldn’t be surprised. After all, that night on the rooftop when Yang caught her, Blake had mentioned that she knew that finding her mom was why Yang joined the force in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” Blake says, grabbing a dish towel and not meeting Yang’s bewildered eyes. “I know it’s personal. I… shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s—it’s okay.” Yang blinks hard and shakes her head to clear it. “She… You’re right. She was part of why I joined. The hope of finding her, and the resources I knew became available when you’re a police officer. But… I guess I tried to just think of it as a potential bonus. I… I let my search for her control me once, and I’ll never make that mistake again.” Yang finishes scrubbing the bowl out and sets it on the drying rack.

Yang could stop the story there. She knows that. It’s an answer to Blake’s question, and Blake never seemed to ask a lot of personal questions very often. But as she shoves her hand into the water and pulls the plug out of the drain, she can’t help but feel like she owes Blake more than that. More than vague explanations that answer the surface question and play dumb at knowing the underlying curiosity.

They’ve come this far.

“I didn’t know about my birth mom until I was nine,” Yang confesses eventually. “Ruby’s mom had just died in that explosion, and dad… well, dad sort of shut down for a while. Not long after that, I learned that my birth mom wasn’t the same as Ruby’s. My mom was still alive somewhere. She’d just… left. Pretty much right after I was born.” Yang watches the dirty water and remaining bubbles swirl down the gurgling drain. Finding out the truth had felt less like a victory and more like losing two mothers with one death.

“Why did she leave?”

Yang feels a brief, familiar spark of anger at the question, but it fizzles out almost as soon as it starts. Yang had been chasing that very question almost her entire life. Running in circles. She had the best track record of any detective second to Ozpin, but the one case she couldn’t crack was the one that she’d been on the longest.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Her voice comes out more bitter than she’d meant it to. “What would make a mother leave her newborn baby girl never to be seen or heard from again?”

She couldn’t even remember her mother. What her voice sounded like. She’d seen pictures of her—well, one picture, technically—but it was a poor substitute. Yang thinks of Summer, and she feels the dull ache in her chest give slightly to something warmer. Tender.

“Summer—Ruby’s mom—came into my dad’s life maybe a few months later. She was… the best mom ever, pretty much. Cookie baker, hug giver, deeply and inherently protective. It’s…” Yang sighs, gripping the edge of the counter and leaning against it. “It’s not that I feel like I grew up without a mom. I just… somewhere out there is a woman who carried me inside of her for nine months, gave birth to me, and then left like it was nothing.” _Like I was nothing_.

“Yang…” Yang feels slender, calloused fingers close gently over her wrist. She freezes at the touch and looks at the girl beside her. Her slender brow pulls together as she tilts her head slightly, but whatever question is on her mind isn’t one that she asks.

Blake’s eyes have an odd sort of light in them; it makes the amber look softer, the honey look warmer. “You’re surrounded by people who care about you, you know,” she says.

Yang blinks for a moment, caught off guard. She feels something hammering abruptly hard and fast in her chest. Her stomach squirms. Yang has the sudden and overwhelming to urge to ask if Blake is counting herself among that number.

“Bla--,”

A new voice makes both girls jump. “She’s right, you know.”

The voice is familiar to Yang. A warm baritone that makes Yang’s heart swell. She turns towards the entryway and sees him leaned up against the wall with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, his messy flop of blonde hair offering a stark contrast to tanned skin and the scruff on his jaw. Yang’s mouth drops for a moment. She hadn’t even heard the front door open.

“Dad!”

…

**A/N: Hey guys. Real life has hit some curveballs but I will do my best to keep my writing the best I can offer to you, dear readers. You deserve nothing less. Please let me know your thoughts on this most recent installment. I always adore hearing what you think!**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Wow. Guys, I can’t tell you how much the feedback and continued support means to me. Real Life has been… a lot, in the past few weeks since my last update, and is the principle reason for the delay. Thank you for your patience.**

**My continued thanks to Masterpick.**

**…**

“Dad, what are you doing here?” The question tumbles out of Yang’s mouth as soon as she pulls out of her dad’s embrace. “Not that I’m not happy to see you.”

Taiyang shrugs, then adjusts the strap of the duffle bag on his shoulder. “What, a dad can’t just casually drop by to visit his two favorite girls?” His eyes glance over Yang’s shoulder towards Blake. “And… their friends.” He offers a friendly smile.

Blake says something in response, but Yang isn’t really paying attention. He deflected her question. The last time Yang remembered him avoiding a conversation like that was the last time Yang had tired to ask him about her mom. The blonde takes a closer look at her dad. He’s got a small cut on his cheekbone, his hair looks oily, and the stubble on his jaw stands out more than usual. He hasn’t shaved in a few days, maybe a week. He’s leaning most of his weight on his right leg: unusual for a man who always stood with his weight even between both feet.

“How did you know we were here?” Yang asks suddenly. “It’s… not exactly like it was planned.”

“Your Uncle Qrow called me,” Taiyang replies easily. “But he didn’t really say much other than that you had shown up at the cabin and had brought a friend.”

Yang looks at him again, not quite believing that. From Patch, getting to Forever Fall would take at least two days. Yet here he was, just under 24 hours from when Yang and Blake had arrived. Something wasn’t adding up, but Yang shoves the thoughts to the side. She just wants her dad.

“Right,” Yang says. “Dad, this is Blake Belladonna. She’s… um…” Yang blanks. _Dad, this is the infamous criminal that I arrested and then helped escape and now we’re on the run from the law together_. She had a feeling that explanation wouldn’t go over well.

“She’s a friend of mine,” Yang says, but it feels incomplete somehow. When she glances at the other girl, she sees Blake’s lips pull up in a cordial smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

Taiyang crosses his arms over his chest, regarding her quietly before he returns the smile with a sincerity that allows Yang to relax a little. “Nice to meet you, Blake.”

“You too, Mr. Xiao Long.”

“Ruby’s upstairs sleeping,” Yang adds. “And my coworker, Weiss, is here too.”

“Oh. Well, we’ve got the room.” Taiyang cocks an eyebrow at his eldest daughter. He lets the dark green duffle bag slide to the wooden floor. “Qrow didn’t say what brought you guys out here, though.”

“I, uh…It’s complicated.” A part of Yang feels younger somehow under the scrutinizing blue eyes of her father. “I’ll tell you everything later, but I was thinking maybe I should grab a nap too,” she says suddenly, and feels guilty almost as soon as the words leave her lips. Is it really fair to get annoyed at her dad for sidestepping questions when she just did the exact same thing to him?

She can’t exactly pinpoint why she doesn’t want to tell her dad the full story like she’d told her uncle. Telling Qrow had been different. A part of her was relieved to have told the story to someone. But this time? This time she had a feeling that her dad would look at her differently as soon as he knew. She’d tell him, and probably soon, but she wanted to hold onto the normality for a moment. However fleeting it may be.

“Uh, right.” Taiyang gives Yang a weird look. He hesitates, then relents. “You do look tired. And I should catch up with your uncle, anyway.”

Yang glances down at her boots, and nudges the corner of the hallway carpet that covered most of the wooden floors. “Thanks, Dad. We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Of course.” There’s a long pause, and then Yang feels him kiss the top of her head. Startled, Yang blinks and looks up.

He hadn’t done that since she was young.

“Sleep well, Yang,” he says with a soft smile.

…

Yang hadn’t thought that she was actually tired—only using a nap as an excuse to not tell her dad the whole story of the past few weeks right then and there—but the next thing she knows, she’s opening her eyes and the clock on the dresser says 12:42 AM in green block numbers. She’d slept through dinner. With a groan, Yang kicks the cream bedspread off her legs and rolls to her feet.

She pads her way quietly down the stairs, pausing to scratch Zwei’s head between his huge ears from where he sleeps curled up at the top of the steps. Zwei wags his tail, but he rests his head back on his paws in front of him and closes his eyes.

“ _…replace him, Qrow. Nobody knew how or why. All I got was that name.”_

That was her dad’s voice. Barely above a whisper, and her dad sounds more exhausted than Yang had ever heard him. She stops at the bottom of the stairs, her brow furrowing even as she strains to hear what her dad was saying. Qrow’s voice speaks up, low and subdued.

“ _Roman Torchwick? Why does that name sound familiar?”_

Yang has the same question. She shuffles her way closer to the voices coming from the kitchen, pressing her back up against the wall. Most of the lights are off in the cabin, with only the warm yellow glow from the kitchen acting as Yang’s guide. The wooden floors make it easy to slide down the darkened hallway towards the dining room and kitchen.

“ _Beats me. I haven’t gotten time to do any research outside of Mistral. I was headed back to Patch when I got your call.”_

Yang’s mind is reeling. _Torchwick. Why does that ring a bell?_ For the life of her, she can’t remember.

Yang inches forward another step. She ducks under a picture hanging on the wall—the one her dad took of Ruby and Yang running through the sprinkler when she was five—and stops just short of turning the corner. She holds her breath, only barely able to make out what her father says after a long silence. Her lilac eyes stare unseeing at the corner where the baseboard meets the orange wall.

“ _How are they, Qrow? Really.”_

A sigh. “ _You know how they are. Ruby understands more than she wants to let on. She’s acting normal because that’s what the girls need, and she knows it. And as for Yang…”_ The thought goes unfinished, and Yang can’t see if it’s finished with a gesture or just simply left incomplete.

Another long pause. “ _What do you think about that Blake girl?”_ Her dad doesn’t sound harsh or threatening, just… curious.

Qrow chuckles. There’s the faint click of metal on a granite countertop. “ _That depends on why you’re asking.”_

Yang tries to inch just a fraction closer and freezes as the floorboard creaks loudly under her foot. The conversation cuts out abruptly, and Yang is back up the stairs and in her room again before the men in the kitchen can so much as take a step.

…

If either Taiyang or Qrow had suspected Yang of eavesdropping on their conversation the night before, neither one of them calls her on it the following day.

Yang spends most of the morning trying to piece together the bits of information she gathered from that conversation. She still can’t place the name Roman Torchwick, which only serves to increase her frustration. And who is the “him” that got replaced? What bothers Yang the most, though, is her dad. Why was he doing research in Mistral? He’s a retired professor.

Isn’t he?

By 3:00 in the afternoon, Yang feels a tightness in her neck and can sense the oncoming headache. It’s overcast outside, the threat of a storm only adding to the mounting pressure behind her eyes. She feels something cold and wet nudge her shoulder. When she looks up from her seat at the table in the kitchen, she sees Blake holding a cup of water, condensation dripping on the outside.

She holds the cup out to her. “You okay?”

Grateful, Yang holds it against her forehead. The coldness helps numb the pain a little. “Just a headache,” she says.

Blake hums like she doesn’t quite believe her. She takes a seat at the table across from Yang as the sound of a rain shower hitting the tin roof of the cabin fills the momentary silence. In her own hands, Blake holds a mug with a small tag over the lip that lets Yang know its tea. She can see wisps of steam curl up into the air as the girl takes a small sip.

When Blake’s amber-honey eyes rise to meet Yang’s, the blonde can feel the unspoken questions lingering in the silence. “Want to talk about it?” Blake asks after a moment.

Yang shakes her head and takes a long swallow of water. “Maybe later,” she offers, hoping Blake understands that what she really means is _no, but not because of you_. Blake’s gaze drops to the tea in her cup and Yang has the sinking feeling that what she meant wasn’t quite what Blake heard.

She releases a breath. “Blake, I’m—,”

“Your dad seems nice,” Blake interrupts. She looks back up at Yang. She means well—Yang knows that—but her dad is the last thing she wants to talk about right now.

“From what you’ve told me, so does your dad. How’s that tea? You once told me your dad makes the best cup of tea in Remnant.”

Blake’s lips quirk slightly. “It’s true. I can’t explain it. He’s told me over and over how he does it, but whenever I make it… it’s not quite the same.” For the briefest moment, Yang thinks she sees a moment of wistfulness come into her eyes, but it’s gone the next moment and Yang wonders if it was just a reflection of the steam rising from the cup.

Yang leans back in her chair, a teasing glint alighting in her lilac eyes. “Have you played with the recipe at all? Explored all of the _possibili-teas_?” Yang grins at her own joke.

Blake rolls her eyes, but Yang sees the amused smile that she tries to hide behind the teacup. Something warm blossoms in her chest and she can feel the headache easing up already.

….

The following day is quiet, for the most part. Ruby is outside playing with Zwei but being careful to not venture far, Weiss was holed up in her room, and both her dad and her uncle had been mostly MIA. She knew they were somewhere in the cabin, but she mostly let them alone.

If she’s being honest with herself, Yang is still reeling from the conversation she overheard two nights ago. And she was starting to feel a little sick of the secrets around her. She should just go talk to her dad, right? They’d always had a mutual respect there. Yang likes to think that if she confronts him, he’ll be honest with her.

But she can’t just yet. She isn’t sure why.

Instead, she sits in the living room by the window watches the sun filter through the red leaves and leave patterns on the forest floor. For a reason she can’t quite articulate, a part of her feels like maybe she can relate to the broken fragments of light that don’t quite fit together.

Blake sits across the room, curled up in an armchair with a book she’d grabbed from the bookshelf against the wall open in her lap. Yang fidgets impatiently with the loose threads on the seams of her own chair.

“Blake?” Taiyang’s voice cuts into her thoughts, startling both girls for a moment. He stands in the entryway, holding a square brown box with a messy black scrawl on the top in the corner. “You’ve got a package.”

Blake’s wide amber eyes blink in surprise, then glance at Yang. “Me?”

Taiyang smiles a little. “It’s got your name on it. Literally.” He glances down at the black letters on the top.

Blake slowly closes her book, glancing between the box in Taiyang’s hands and Yang. Yang shrugs. _I have no idea._

Blake unfolds her legs from under her and takes the box gingerly. She stares at it for a moment before Taiyang silently offers her a pocket knife and Blake slices the tape down the cardboard flaps. Stray shreds of cardboard flutter to the carpeted floor. Yang watches Blake’s amber honey eyes, noticing how they widen at first before narrowing in suspicion. She checks the flaps of the box like she’s looking for something.

“Blake?” She says.

Blake’s bewildered gaze meet Yang’s briefly before she turns to Taiyang. “Who was this from?”

A crease appears between his brows at the question. “Uh, it didn’t say. Something wrong?” He steps a little closer to her, glancing at the box over her shoulder. The look in his eyes reminds Yang of how he would look at her whenever a teacher called home when she was younger, before he answered the phone. Like he was worried, and not sure if he should be.

Blake doesn’t respond. She pulls something compact—gray, mostly, from what Yang can see—out and studies it. Tests the weight in her hand. It’s then that Yang realizes it’s a gun. A pistol, technically, and one that looks vaguely familiar to her. It’s a second later that she realizes why she recognizes it.

It’s the weapon Blake had on her the night that Yang caught her.

“Is that a gun?” Yang hears Taiyang ask. He sounds surprised, maybe faintly alarmed. He’s never been uncomfortable around weapons; he’s the one who taught Yang how to shoot in the first place. But she supposes it’s a little different when the weapon is delivered in a box to a secret location and addressed to a stranger who happens to be living there for the time being.

Blake seems to hear the alarm as well because she quickly sets the weapon back in the box and setting it on the coffee table beside her. “Sir, I promise I don’t know how or why its here.”

“It’s yours, though, right?”

Blake hesitates for just a moment. “Yes. It is.” Yang sees her bow rustle slightly. The floor creaks from upstairs and Yang hears Blake’s slight intake of breath.

Yang’s gaze narrows. She can’t read the look in her dad’s eyes as he looks at the girl in front of her, even as he says, “But you don’t know how it got here? To a remote cabin in the woods, with no return address?” A part of Yang bristles. Was he trying to imply something?

Yang sees Blake swallow, her gaze wavering but she stands her ground. “I really don’t know, sir. I didn’t… I wouldn’t put you guys in danger.” She glances, very briefly, at Yang.

Taiyang’s blue eyes soften and he shakes his head, placing a tanned hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Blake, I just need to know if this is something that puts _you_ in danger.”

For a moment, Yang isn’t sure who is more surprised: Blake, or herself.

Blake blinks up at Taiyang, and then looks over at the box on the table. She shakes her head. “I don’t think so, Mr. Xiao Long.”

Taiyang smiles and gives a single, firm nod in return. He lets go of her shoulder. “Good. I don’t know how those guns got here, but keep them away from my daughter.” For a second, Yang thinks he’s talking about her, until he continues. “Ruby will want to take them apart, and she’ll talk your ear off about them.”

Blake offers a real, amused smile back at him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

...

**A/N: Thank you for sticking with me, guys. I know this was perhaps a long time coming, and a bit of a slow chapter. I promise I have not forgotten about this or all of you. Your ongoing feedback and encouragement means more than I know how to express. From the bottom of my heart, thank you again. And please let me know what you thought about this installment!**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Wow. I really can’t tell you how much the ongoing support means to me. I am so deeply grateful to each every one of you that gives me some kind of feedback, and even to my shy lurkers. I’m grateful for you, too, but would really love to hear what ya think. I promise I don’t bite. ^u^**

**To any and all of my readers: lots of things are happening in the world right now. Stay safe, okay? Take care of yourself. Take care of one another.**

**Shout-out to Masterpick, who has been very busy and stressed lately but still supports and encourages me. ^u^**

**…**

Three hours later, Yang begins to suspect that something isn’t quite right.

Blake takes her weapon upstairs almost as soon as Taiyang leaves. She closes herself in her room, ignoring her when Yang says her name as she starts up the stairs. At first, Yang had thought Blake just wanted to stash the gun somewhere safe. Under her bed, maybe, or in the dresser. But when a few hours go by—her white door latched shut—Yang can’t help but feel an increasing sense of worry.

Yang gives it another hour before she knocks on her door. “Blake?”

She’s met with silence. Images of an empty room and open window flash through her mind but she shakes them off. Instead, she backs away from the door and tries to ignore the way her stomach sinks a little at the lack of response.

Even though she hadn’t really known Blake for long, Yang _does_ know how quiet she is. Private. And though nobody would describe Yang as “quiet” in the same way they used it for Blake, the blonde did know what it was like to need time and space. She didn’t know why having her weapon back had made Blake pull away so suddenly, but she was going to press her too much.

Yang turns back to the stairs, her fingers resting on the wooden banister before she sees her sister appear out of her own room. “Hey, sis,” Ruby greets.

“Hey, Ruby,” she replies, offering a small smile.

Ruby glances at Blake’s closed door and then back at Yang. “Is Blake okay?”

“I’m not sure,” Yang tells her honestly, her gaze lingering for a moment on the brass doorknob of Blake’s room.

“Give her time.” Ruby’s unfailing certainty in others rings clear in her voice. “I’m sure she’d tell you if something was wrong.”

 As a habit, Yang tried to not keep a lot from her younger sister. Some things were necessary, especially when she was a detective, but Yang had always known just how bright and perceptive her younger sister is. Growing up, Ruby had been one of her best friends. Then she moved into the city for her job, Ruby went off to college to pursue her passion of weapons engineering, and they stopped seeing each other every day. But they still kept in frequent contact, and Yang had always felt grateful for that.

This time, though, Yang can feel the distance between them. She’d been keeping a lot from her sister recently in order to protect her. Ruby still didn’t know much about Blake, or why they broke her out, or any of the rest of it that had led to Yang waking her up and telling her that she needed to get out of the city.

Ruby hadn’t even asked. She’d grabbed Zwei and fled with Weiss without any hint of doubt in her sister’s choices. Yang had lost track of the exact date, but she knew that the initial amount of time her little sister was supposed to spend with her was almost up, if the date hadn’t passed already. Yet here her sister stood in front of her, not mentioning any of it or showing any sign of resentment.

Yang still wasn’t sure she deserved quite so much loyalty or sacrifice from the little sister she’d always promised to protect.

“Yang?” Ruby asks, strands of her short dark hair falling into her face as she cocks her head slightly.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” Yang says suddenly. “You were supposed to start classes soon.”

Ruby gives her a look. “There are other things that are kind of more pressing right now. Don’t worry about me.”

Yang shakes her head. “Ruby, I didn’t ask—“

“You’re right,” Ruby interrupts, a small smile pulling at her lips. “You didn’t ask. So don’t worry about it. I was scheduled to graduate a semester early anyway. I can take one off.”

For a moment, Yang doesn’t know what to say. She looks down at the faded tan carpet. At a small stain at the top of the stairs from when Yang had accidentally ran into the banister with a tray full of food for her parents when she was six because she was so excited to give them breakfast in bed Christmas morning.

“Something big is happening, Yang,” Ruby says after Yang’s silence, her voice a little softer now. “Bigger than me. Definitely bigger than my classes. I can feel it. So I’m not going anywhere.” Downstairs, Yang hears a clatter of dishes and her uncle curse. Ruby continues. “When you’re ready for the next step, I’ll be there.” Yang can hear the trust in those words no matter how hard she’s trying not to. Ruby gives her an encouraging smile and shoulders past her.

Yang stays standing in the hallway a moment longer, her sister’s last sentence echoing in her head. She had meant it to be reassuring, but Yang can’t help but feel like it’s a condemnation. _I don’t know what comes next._

…

The following morning, when Yang heads towards the kitchen for breakfast, she passes Blake on the stairs.

She locks eyes with her, and Blake takes a breath like she’s about to say something but nothing leave her lips. Both girls stop, Blake’s slender hand resting on the wooden banister as she stands a few steps down from Yang. The silence lasts several moments too long. Yang isn’t sure why.

“Good morning,” Yang tries. It sounds tentative in her ears and she silently curses herself because never before in her life would Yang have described herself as _tentative_.  

“Morning,” Blake replies. A faint, cordial smile pulls politely at her lips.

The silence returns between them and Yang hates it because she doesn’t understand where it is coming from. She doesn’t understand that look in the other girl’s eyes. She doesn’t understand why Blake won’t talk to her.

“Was breakfast good?” Yang asks instead of any other countless questions pressing at her mind.

The flimsy attempt at a smile falls from Blake’s face. She looks, instead, at her hand still on the banister. “Yeah. Your dad’s a good cook.”

Yang feels a sudden and strong desire to get that smile—any smile—back on Blake’s face. So despite herself, Yang cocks an eyebrow and feigns shock. “ _My_ dad? As in Taiyang Xiao Long?”

She sees that smile, accompanied by a breath of air that is almost—almost, not quite—a laugh. It’s so quick that Yang almost misses it. But she definitely doesn’t miss the equally brief, pained look that darkens her honey eyes the next moment. Yang frowns.

“Hey,” she says, deciding that she really ought to stop dancing around the subject. She’d never much cared for sidestepping questions anyway, and that pained look she’d seen a second ago bothered her for reasons she can’t quite articulate. “Are you okay?”

Blake looks back at her suddenly. “Why do you ask?” Yang hears the guardedness in her voice, like it was during those early interrogations when Yang had still been… working for them.

“You’ve seemed… distant,” Yang says quietly. “Ever since you got your weapon back in the mail.”

Blake freezes for a second like Yang caught her doing something she shouldn’t. Then she sighs, and Yang sees her grip on the banister tighten slightly. “Yang—,”

“ _Yang! Ruby! Breakfast is ready!”_ Her dad’s voice calls throughout the cabin. Weiss must already be eating breakfast, Yang assumes.

She closes her eyes for a moment and releases a breath. “Be right there!” Yang calls back, looking apologetically at Blake.

Blake shakes her head. “You should eat, Yang.” That forced, polite smile back is back in place. Yang suddenly and ardently hates it. Blake passes her on the stairs and closes the door to her room behind her before Yang can say anything else.

…

Yang slides onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island as Qrow sets a plate of eggs over easy and cleaned strawberries in front of her. Yang stares at it for a moment before picking up the fork and stabbing one of the berries. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Qrow and her dad share a glance.

“Something wrong, Yang?” her dad asks.

Yang thinks briefly about telling him, but decides against it. “Still waking up,” she says, which is half-true. She uses the side of the fork to break the yolk of the egg, watching disinterestedly as the bright yellow floods out of the white encasing.

She hears Qrow say something about waking Ruby, and he walks out. Taiyang sighs after he’s gone, and Yang can feel his blue eyes watching her. Yang slices a piece of egg white, mops up some of the yolk, and chews it slowly. There’s a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.  

“Are you going to tell me about any of it?” Taiyang asks softly.

Yang looks up at him, feeling that she should maybe be more surprised by the question than she is. She doesn’t even pretend to ask what he means; she knows. Yang still hadn’t told her dad what had happened in the past few weeks, but he’d been keeping secrets of his own. Yang still wasn’t sure what he’d meant that night she’d heard him talking to her uncle. And regardless, she was pretty sure that her dad already knew.

“You probably know by now,” she tells him. “Even if Uncle Qrow didn’t say anything, it’s been all over the news.”

Taiyang folds his arms across his chest and leans back against the counter. “Qrow said he never got the full story, but… you’re right. Between him and the news recently on the radio and in the paper, I’ve been able to piece it together.” He pauses, then sighs. “Why didn’t you tell me, Yang?”

Yang’s grip tightens around her fork. She looks at her plate. “I…” Yang lets her gaze travel down the counter, avoiding her dad’s eyes, when she sees the newspaper. Stacked and folded in half, the front page picture in a fuzzy grayscale. She looks closer, and sees a vaguely familiar pair of tall rabbit ears.

Her eyes widen, and she snatches the paper off the counter and unfolds the front page. It’s definitely Velvet. Her head is bowed so that her hair partially obscures her face, a coat folded over her hands which means they’ve been handcuffed. Leading her by the arm is none other than Detective Ni, photograph journalists surrounding them as she’s led into the precinct. Above the image, in large bold print reads **_VPD SECRETARY ARRESTED FOR EVIDENCE TAMPERING, OBSTRUCTION OF JUSTICE_**.

Yang pales.

“What’s wrong?” she hears her dad ask, but Yang doesn’t even know what to say. _Velvet had been caught? How?_ Even more pressing were the images that flashed through her mind, of Velvet trapped somewhere with Mortroach. Or worse yet, Emerald and Mercury. Yang knows it’s possible. Even likely.

She doesn’t realize how hard she’s gripping the paper until it starts to tear in her hands. She lets it drop. Ni’s sneer stares up at her mockingly. She has to do something. She can’t just let Velvet endure the torture Emerald put Blake through.

“Yang?” her dad asks again, but Yang ignores him. She has to get Velvet out of that. Emerald had almost completely unraveled Blake in a few days. Who knows if Velvet would even last that long. She stands up so quickly that the stool topples over with a loud clatter. Yang rushes out of the kitchen as her dad calls after her, but she doesn’t stop until she’s in her room and shoving clothes into her backpack.

She doesn’t have a plan, and she should. She knows that. But right now, all she can think about is how stupid she was to forget that things didn’t stop in Vale just because she left. The world kept turning without her, innocent people left behind.

“Yang. What are you doing?”

It’s Weiss. Her calm, strong tone cuts through Yang’s thoughts like a knife. She stills, one hand on the handle of her backpack. She clenches her jaw.

“Velvet was arrested.”

“I know. I read about it in the paper.”

“I have to get her out. She doesn’t deserve that.”

Weiss’s bare feet scuff against the carpet as she steps further into the room and closes the door behind them. Yang still doesn’t turn around.

“You’re telling me that you’re going to go back to Vale, undetected, and sneak back into the precinct, _undetected_ , and break Velvet out like you did with Blake?” There’s a certain edge to Weiss’s voice, but Yang knows her better than to mistake it for malice. “You’re not going to help her that way. You will get caught. And then what? They _win_ , Yang. That’s what.”

Yang whirls around. She doesn’t have to look in the mirror to know her eyes are smoldering red. “I can’t just stand by while innocent people take the fall for me, Weiss.”

Weiss’s long white hair is pulled back in its usual off-centered ponytail. “I’m not saying that either. You always want to plow through obstacles, but sometimes you can get around them without letting them stand in your way.”

“You sound like my dad,” Yang snaps. He used to tell her that before she joined the force and moved into the city. She shakes her head, takes a breath. “What do you have in mind, Weiss?”

A look comes into the other girl’s eyes. A sharp edge that Yang hadn’t noticed before, and it occurs to her that Weiss might care just as much as she does. “Velvet’s bail is pricey. Too expensive for the normal person. But if you can find some strings to pull, you can get her out from under Emerald’s thumb at least for a while before she stands trial. And nobody was more connected in Vale than you were.”

Yang runs a hand through her tangled hair. “I’m a wanted fugitive. Nobody’s going to help me.”

Weiss rolls her eyes and turns back towards the door, opening it. “Maybe. You won’t know if you don’t ask.”

“It’s not that simple,” Yang shoots back, but Weiss is already gone. Frustrated, Yang shoves her backpack further up on the bed away from her.

…

Hours go by—she doesn’t know how many, not for sure—and Yang doesn’t feel any closer to an answer.

Weiss is right to say that she can’t just try to break Velvet out. It’d be suicide, and on the off chance that they had arrested Velvet as a ruse to get Yang to come back… she’d be playing right into their hands. They were certainly manipulative enough to try it.

None of that actually changed the facts, though. Velvet had still been arrested, which meant that she was still most likely being interrogated by Emerald or Mercury, if not both of them. Velvet shouldn’t have to endure that. But who is Yang supposed to call that would have that kind of cash? JNPR? They were always strapped for money as is, and the last thing Yang wants to do is ask them to do anything illegal.

Assuming that they’d managed to stay out from under the VPD’s radar. Yang hopes so.

Who did that leave? Sun? Yang didn’t believe that Sun was caught up with whoever Mortroach really was, but she still couldn’t be sure who to trust at the precinct. Besides, Sun didn’t have that kind of cash anyway. The same was true for Neptune.

The room suddenly feels too small to Yang. The walls too tight, the ceiling too low. The air is stuffy and stale and is it hot or is that just Yang? She can’t tell. She doesn’t care. She just wants _out_.

Yang makes a beeline for the front door, out of her room and down the stairs. She thinks she might hear someone say her name, but she doesn’t stop until she’s outside. It’s dark now. Just how long did she stay in her room? Must have been longer than she’d initially thought. Remnant’s shattered moon peeks just over the tree tops of the clearing in the canopy above them. The stars are out, and it’s unusually cool.

The air feels crisp and clean, flooding Yang’s lungs as she sucks in a deep breath of it.

 _I don’t know what’s next_ , she thinks for the second time that day, and stares up at the sky for a moment like it might point her in the right direction. She’d fallen in love with the city because of its perpetual motion, but she’d forgotten how much she loved the quiet stillness of the woods sometimes. She’s taken, for a moment, back to when she was young and Summer had stargazed with her and Ruby until they’d fallen asleep. Yang closes her eyes and listens to the wind rustling the leaves and the quiet chorus of crickets around her. _God, mom. I wish you were here. You always knew what to do._

Yang stands there for a moment, until her arms get goosebumps from the chilly night air and her racing heart calms back down. She breathes in, holding it in her lungs for a moment before releasing it slowly. She digs the toe of her boot into the dirt at her feet. She turns back to the cabin, and takes a step back towards the door when she sees something on the roof. A person, facing away from her and sitting on the crux of the two slants.

Her gaze narrows before she recognizes who it is. She doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the shape of that bow.

Yang jogs over to the lattice on the side of the cabin and tests her weight on it, smiling faintly with satisfaction and surprise when it holds. She climbs it quickly and deftly, wondering if perhaps Blake had already seen her and bolted. She feels guilty for the thought, but it briefly gives way to relief when she sees that Blake is still sitting there when she reaches the top.

“Blake? Can we talk?”

…

**A/N: A crazy whirlwind of a chapter. I’d love to hear what you guys think of everything! It always means so much to me.**

**I know I said this in my Author’s Note at the beginning, but… again: a lot is happening in the world. Be safe. Take care of yourself, and take care of one another.**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Lots of unpacking happening in this chapter. One thing led to another, and well. Both less and more happened in this chapter than I originally intended. Hold tight, my friends. Thank you so much for sticking with me this far.**

**Keep taking care of yourselves and one another.**

**My special thanks to Masterpick for his continued support and help. Oh. And happy anniversary to him. ^u^**

**…**

“Blake? Can we talk?”

Yang cautiously steps off the lattice onto the roof of the cabin before gingerly crossing over to the other girl. Yang hears the wind rustling through the trees of Forever Fall like a quiet, hushed whisper. If she really tries, she can also hear muffled unintelligible sounds coming from the cabin below them in the lulls of wind gusts.

Blake seems startled by Yang’s voice at first, ducking her head a little like she’s embarrassed at being caught. The blonde feels something she can’t name deflate inside of her, but she doesn’t say anything as she takes a seat next to her. Yang looks back up at the stars for a moment. They’re _so many_ out here, compared to the one or two especially bright ones she could see in Vale. Yang sighs a little at the irony. The sky may be clearer out here, but her head had never felt more jumbled.

Blake wraps her arms around her shins as she pulls her knees up under her chin. Remnant’s shattered moon doesn’t offer much in the way of lighting, but Yang can still make out the delicate slope of her nose and the curves of her toned legs, even clad in the dark knit pants and tucked up against her like they were. There’s a bit of a breeze up here on the roof, tugging reverently at the edges of her dark, shiny bow.

Yang sighs and stretches her legs out along the slightly sloped rooftop. She leans back, her arms bracing her upright. For some reason, sitting next to her here only makes Yang more aware of how far away Blake feels. She doesn’t know where, or how, to start to bridge the gap between them. Or if Blake will even let her try.

“Velvet was arrested,” Yang says softly, if only to break the silence. She senses, more than sees, the way Blake glances at her. Yang doesn’t meet her gaze, opting instead to stare out at the vague dark outline where the treetops meet the sky, like black ink spilled on an already dark canvas. “The girl that helped us with the cameras, if you remember.”

“I remember,” Blake says softly.

Below them, Yang sees four rectangles of light illuminating the grass on the ground, streaming out from the kitchen window. It vanishes a second later as someone—probably her dad or Uncle Qrow—flips the light switch. Yang thinks back to that moment in the stairwell, suddenly remembering the vague look of recognition Velvet seemed to have when she saw Blake that night. “Did… you know her?” Yang asks.

Blake cocks her head a little, making dark strands of hair fall past her shoulder. “Why would I?” Her alto voice is careful and guarded again.

Yang’s stomach sinks a little farther and she shakes her head. The crisp air makes the hair on her arms stand up a bit. She lifts a shoulder with feigned indifference. “It just… seemed like she knew you or something. That’s all. Then again, Velvet always seems to know everyone.” Yang pauses, then sighs. “It’s sad. I don’t think anyone really knows her, you know? A lot of people even call her by the wrong name.” Yang still wasn’t sure whether that was a result of Velvet’s evident Faunus features or because Velvet had always been more of a wallflower. Maybe it was a combination of the two.

“What do they call her?”

“I heard ‘Scarlet’ a lot. I think they got her first name mixed up with her last name. ‘Velvet Scarlatina’ pushed together, or something. Nobody really makes an effort, I guess.”

Blake turns to look at her more fully, her amber eyes wide and alert all of the sudden. “Wait. Did you say, ‘Scarlatina’?” At Yang’s confused nod, Blake sighs and looks back out at the trees. “I helped out her family a few times. That’s probably why she knew me.”

“What do you mean?”

The crickets and owl calls that surround them offers Yang an odd sense of familiarity. She’s missed this sound, this symphony of the forest around her. She’d gotten so used to the city’s nightlife—tires rolling on pavement, the buzzing of neon signs, the occasional passing of a thumping bass from the radio of a car driving by—that she’d almost forgotten what this was like.

Yang glances at Blake and notices that she’s tugging at the sleeve of a dark sweatshirt. It’s Yang’s old one; the same one she’d worn the day they sparred. “I know you watched some of those interrogation sessions—,” Blake plows through those last two words like she’s afraid she’ll lose her nerve to say them— “but I don’t know what all you heard and what you didn’t. You know how you kept asking me what I did with the money? I told Emerald and Mercury the truth when I said I gave it away to families in Menagerie who couldn’t make enough to get by.”

Now that she had mentioned it, Yang _did_ remember that. She’d believed her then, even before she knew for sure that Blake was right about pretty much everything else too. She still believes her. “I remember that,” Yang says. “The Scarlatinas were one of those families, weren’t they?”

Blake nods. Another breeze plays with the tangles in her long, dark hair. “They’re a big family. Fifteen kids. The dad died in a mining accident several years ago because the Russel Thrush Mining Company wasn’t up to code and nobody cared enough to run adequate security inspections since they only operated in and hired from low-income Faunus regions.” There’s a hardness in her voice. “The mom was doing her best, but fifteen kids is a lot to take care of and still make ends meet. I knew their oldest was working and sending money home from Vale but it wasn’t quite enough. I didn’t realize it was Velvet.”

Yang winces a little internally. Mostly, however, she wonders how she could have not known anything about Velvet’s family. She sits up a bit and folds her arms over the tops of her knees, feeling guilty that she’d never even asked.

“I’ve got to get her out somehow,” Yang says after a moment. “Out under the thumb of Emerald and Mercury and Mortroach, at least.” She picks up a red leaf from beside her and turns it over between her fingers.

She glances at Blake in time to see the corner of the other girl’s soft-looking lips turn upwards slightly. “If anyone can, it’s you, Yang.”

Before she can stop herself, Yang is shaking her head. The quiet, unwavering confidence in Blake’s voice makes something inside of her flip. “First Ruby, now you,” she says, but mostly to herself. “Blake, I’m afraid your confidence in me might be misplaced.”

The words come casually—almost hyperbolically—but as soon as she says them, Yang realizes just how true they really are. She _is_ afraid. Afraid that she isn’t worthy of this blind trust she’s gained from Ruby, from Weiss, from Blake…

Blake’s head tilts back slightly as she looks up at the moon. In the dark, her eyelashes looks longer somehow. “Do you remember when you first brought me into the precinct? Those first few days, before Emerald and Mercury came in.”

Yang’s brow furrows. “Yeah. Of course.”

“I must have talked to dozens of officers,” Blake says. Her voice has softened a bit, lost some of the guarded edge it had a few minutes ago. Her black bow almost blends in with the darkened sky above them. “But you were the only one who would actually talk to me like I was a person. When you said you wanted to help me... I didn't believe you at first. But after a while..." She shakes her head just a little. "After a while, a part of me started to. You were the only one who said to me that you didn't want to hurt me. Every time they brought me a sandwich or an apple, I knew it was because you made them. I may not have trusted you, exactly, or been cooperative. But you were the only one in that entire precinct who I knew, for sure, was just trying to do the right thing.”

Across the clearing, a branch rustles as a bird takes flight and disappears into the night sky. Yang watches it as Blake’s words sink in. “So that’s why you only wanted to talk to me?” She lets a gust of wind take the leaf out of her fingers.

Blake tucks a strand of her dark hair back behind her ear. “That, and you were the only detective on the force who was smart enough to catch me, even for being the youngest detective in VPD history. I knew that said something about you. I guess a part of me wanted to find out what.”

“So what changed?” The question tumbles out of Yang’s mouth. It tastes bitter in her mouth, and though Yang hadn’t meant to ask it quite that way, she has to admit that it feels nice to finally have it off her shoulders.

“What?”

“Ever since your weapon arrived in the mail, you’ve been… quiet. Distant.” She hesitates, her fingers tightening against her biceps. Her voice softens a bit. “More than you usually are. And I just want to know that you’re okay.” _That we’re okay_. The correction whispers softly in the back of Yang’s mind.

“Yang, I…” Blake stops. Yang’s shoulders tense in anticipation. Of what, Yang isn’t sure. “I don’t belong here,” Blake says finally. It’s not what the blonde is expecting, and it stings more than she wants to admit. She turns her soft lilac eyes to Blake, who keeps her honey ones glued to her sock-clad feet.

“What do you mean you ‘don’t belong here’?” Yang asks. She means the question to be hard and fast but it feels for a moment like something is constricting her chest. It makes her voice crack just the slightest bit. It Blake notices, she doesn’t show it.

“ _Here_. This cabin. With your family, who is great, but…” Blake stops again, silence settling between them like a pocket Blake can’t quite fill with words.

The dark-haired girl takes a breath and tries again. “Having Gambol Shroud back reminds me of the work I’ve still got left to do. I don’t understand why nobody seems worried about Mortroach or the White Fang. I…” Blake’s voice catches slightly. “I can’t just sit here pretending to be happy reading books and eating breakfast when real people are getting hurt. I _can’t_ , Yang.”

Yang thinks for a moment that she sees tears gathering in the corner of the other girl’s eyes, but Blake won’t look at her and Yang can’t be sure it’s not just the moonlight’s reflection. “Blake—,”

Blake presses on like she didn’t hear Yang. “But it’s not fair of me to demand anything of any of you. You’ve done more than enough for me. More than I could ever ask for. And I don’t even know what they’re planning, just that _something_ is coming, and if I don’t stop it, then who will?”

Yang looks at the girl beside her. _Really_ looks at her: at the wind tugging at the ends of her hair, the soft curve of her lips, the small scar just under her ear. Blake’s long eyelashes have tiny drops of water caught on the end, catching the faint blue moonlight glow. Her eyes look brighter somehow, here in the dark as Yang sits beside her. There’s a soft-spoken depth to them that makes ‘honey’ and ‘amber’ suddenly feel entirely inadequate as descriptors.

There’s a light in them. A fire that isn’t so much a firework as it was the ignition of a candle here in the dark.

“God, I love it when you’re feisty,” Yang says suddenly, releasing a breathy laugh and shaking her head. Blake coughs out a laugh along with her, a little watery but the smile that accompanies it makes something warm in Yang’s chest fill her in a way that takes the bite out of the cold air around them.

She offers a warm, soft smile of her own. “You want to know who’s going to stop whatever is coming if you don’t? Us. _We_ are.”

Blake sniffles. “We?” The question sounds to Yang both confused and just the slightest bit hopeful.

“We,” she confirms with a nod. “You and me, Blake Belladonna, and whatever comes next.” She runs a hand over her eyes. “I just don’t know what that next thing is.” She’s still smiling despite herself. Relief and something warmer—something exciting—lying just beneath the surface.

“We’ll figure it out,” Blake says, as if pulling her confidence from Yang’s. “One way or another, we’ll stop them.”

It’s then that Yang notices just how _close_ they’re sitting. She hadn’t realized it before, although she isn’t sure if that’s because Blake had felt so far away only minutes ago and now? Now Yang realizes that they’re practically brushing shoulders. Separated by a few inches, at most, at Blake has her hand beside her, half-covered by the sleeve of Yang’s sweatshirt.

Yang has the sudden, perhaps crazy thought that she wants to cover Blake’s hand with her own. The last time Yang touched Blake’s hand had been the night she helped her escape.

 “We should probably get some sleep, huh?” Blake says, interrupting Yang’s thoughts. Yang sees her roll her shoulders a little. She stretches her legs out, pulling her hands to settle in her lap. Her long fingers pinch and pull slightly at the cuff of the sleeve of the sweatshirt.

Yang stretches her arms and cranes her neck from side to side. “What time is it?”

“Very late,” Blake says, the corners of her lips still turned up in a faint smile.

Yang can’t help her yawn, as if emphasizing Blake’s point. If she’s being honest with herself, she also really doesn’t want this moment to end. But Yang _is_ exceptionally tired. She sits there a moment longer, looking once more out over the treetops and sighing before pushing herself to her feet. Then, she looks back at the girl beside her.

“Will I see you in the morning?”

Blake smiles at her again, and nods once. “Definitely. Sleep well, Yang.”

“Sweet dreams, Blake.”

…

**A/N: Aaack. This chapter is so scary to post. I know it’s slightly shorter than the last, but I really wanted to do justice to this long scene because it’s such an important one for a few reasons. I’ve never been so nit-picky/minute-detail-oriented as I was for this chapter. Let me know your thoughts? Please?**

***Edited 11/8/17: small change in a line of dialogue for continuity issues. My apologies for the mistake in the first place.**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: I’m so sorry for the wait, friends. Traveling, mid-terms, changing seasons… it’s all kept me very busy and otherwise occupied. But hey, Unraveled celebrated it’s birthday! ^U^ I’ve never worked on a story for this long before, and it’s the support from readers like you that keep me going. So deeply grateful and humbled to be sharing this piece with such a wonderful and supportive readership. Wouldn’t be here without you all.**

**Been a crazy ride, but we’ve got quite a lot of crazy yet ahead.**

**Masterpick fell under the weather and as a result, this chapter is unbeta’d, but this is draft like, 3 I think, so it has been edited. But… only by yours truly, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone. My apologies for any typos.**

**…**

When Yang was younger and would stay up until all hours getting frustrated with a problem, Summer used to kiss her forehead and tell her that the solution would come to her in the morning after a good night’s rest. It hadn’t mattered whether she was fighting with a friend, struggling with homework, or fiddling with a mechanical trinket. Summer’s advice never changed when the hour was late, but Yang had never been particularly good at following it. She was never really willing to slow down enough to fall asleep, always preferring to confront the problem hard and fast.

When she wakes up the following morning, however, she finds Summer’s advice proving itself true. She has an idea.

“Hey, dad?” she asks, padding quietly into the kitchen and gratefully accepting the cup of coffee Qrow offers. She has no idea what time it is, but she can see through the window above the sink that the warm morning glow is filtering through the tree trunks of Forever Fall. It makes the hardwood floor look redder somehow. Yang wonders absently if it’s the redness of the forest around them or just the light itself.

Taiyang is leaning with his elbows on the kitchen counter when she comes in. He raises his eyebrows slightly in surprise, glancing very briefly at Qrow before replying. “Morning, Yang.”

She takes a sip of the coffee, the bitterness of it waking her up more than the caffeine. She hesitates for a second. “I need to borrow your scroll,” she says, almost like it’s a question. A box of cereal and open half-gallon of milk sits on the counter next to a short tower of bowls.

Taiyang purses his lips as he fishes a hand into the pocket of his cargo shorts. “Don’t you have one?”

Qrow grabs a bowl and pours the cereal into it before reaching for the milk. “She’s on the run from the police, Tai,” he answers for her, matter-of-factly. “They’re probably tracking her scroll.”

Yang blows gently on the still-steaming cup of coffee before taking another sip. “I turned it off as soon as I left Vale. I’ve only used it since to contact Ruby, and even that was risky.”

She glances at her dad in time to see something darken his gaze for a brief, fleeting moment. He sets his scroll on the counter and slides it across to her. Yang stops its slide just short of falling off the edge the counter before slipping it into the pocket of her black sweatpants.

She offers Taiyang an admittedly forced smile, hoping to lighten the suddenly uncomfortable weight that had settled into the kitchen. “Thanks, dad.”

She takes a long swallow of coffee—cringing because it’s still a little too hot—before hurrying out of the room and over to the bookshelf in the living room. She knows she’s seen the volume she’s looking for on one of these shelves. She scans them, her lilac eyes flitting over the titles printed down the side: some in a gold romantic scrawl down leather-bound volumes and others in neat, white block lettering down half-torn paperbacks. It takes her a minute, but it’s hard to miss such a thick book: _Vale Scroll Directory_. It is an old edition by a few years, but Yang hopes it’s enough.

She pulls it out and thumbs through the pages to “O”, then to the back of the section with “Ou”. She drags her index finger quickly down the columns of small print.

“Please be there, please be there, please be there,” she mutters to herself under her breath. She has the number programmed into her own scroll, but it’s too much of a risk to turn it on, even to just pull a number. Looking it up the old fashioned way is the only option. But if the number isn’t in this book, then it’s back to the drawing board.

She finds it towards the bottom of the page. _Oum Condominiums_. The small victory is enough to let a smile pull at her lips.

She plugs it into her dad’s scroll and waits as it rings.

“ _Thank you for calling Oum Condominiums, where Luxury is your Lifestyle and Service is Ours. What can I do for you today?”_

Yang clears her throat, nervous energy starting to hum through her system. “Hi. Does a Coco Adel still live there?”

…

“ _This is Coco Adel_ ,” says the familiar voice after Yang is able to convince the receptionist to patch her through to the room’s landline. This is the only idea she has to get Velvet out of jail and away from Mortroach. If Coco turns her down—or worse, turns her in—then she’ll be in even worse circumstances than square one. It’s still a risk Yang feels she has to take, but she can feel her heart beating against her ribcage.

“Coco,” Yang says, her voice betraying none of the nerves she feels tugging at her stomach. _Years of detective work still come in handy_ , Yang thinks wryly to herself. “I need a favor.”

“ _Yang?”_

“Yeah. It’s me.”

To her surprise, Coco sounds vaguely amused. Or maybe impressed, Yang can’t really tell. “ _Vale’s most wanted fugitive calling my landline. Bold. Always knew you were gutsy.”_

“Glad you think so, because I need to ask something of you,” Yang says. “A friend of mine is in trouble.” _And you’re the only one I know can help_ , she adds silently. She isn’t totally sure that she can actually trust Coco to begin with, but this is the only idea she’s got and Velvet has already spent at least a day and a half in custody. Yang wants to hope that Emerald is limited in her knowledge of Velvet—that the limitation on her semblance will keep her from being able to mess with the docile rabbit Faunus in the same torturous way she screwed with Blake’s head—but she isn’t about to rely on such a flimsy desire.

“ _Never just a social call with you, is it?”_ Coco seems… remarkably calm to Yang. She had been expecting yelling or threats to call the police, if not just an immediate hang-up. Yang had, after all, only spoken to Coco twice before, while she’d been on a case. She hadn’t actually developed much of a friendship with this woman. “ _What’s this favor?”_

Yang rubs the back of her neck. “Last time we met, you told me that the Faunus Equality Scandal had you rethinking some business decisions.”

“ _Yeah. I moved from Torchwick Bank to First Vale just two days ago, actually.”_ At the mention of her previous bank’s name, Yang’s eyes widen. So that’s why the name had sounded so familiar when she’d overheard her dad and Qrow talking the other night about someone named Roman Torchwick. Still, it left Yang with more questions than answers. Why were they looking into a bank in Vale? And if the bank was in Vale, what had her dad been doing in Mistral?

“ _Yang?”_

Coco’s voice snaps her out of her thoughts. Yang shakes her head to clear it before explaining, “What if I told you I know a Faunus being treated unfairly, being placed in very real and tangible danger, and you could get her out and safe?”

“ _I’m listening.”_

“Velvet Scarlatina was taken into custody about two days ago,” Yang says. “Her bail is pretty high, but Coco… she doesn’t deserve the hand she’s been dealt here.” Yang hears footsteps padding down the cabin stairs and stopping in the doorway to the living room. When she glances over her shoulder, she locks eyes with Weiss. The corner of the other girl’s mouth tugs upwards and she nods once before turning down the hallway.

“ _I saw that in the papers yesterday. You really threw this city for a loop, Yang. Things still haven’t calmed down yet. She’s innocent?”_

Yang sighs. “She doesn’t deserve to be where she is,” she repeats and hopes it’s enough. Velvet isn’t innocent exactly, but that also isn’t the point. The less Coco knows, the better. It’s safest for everyone that way. But Yang can’t help the knot of guilt tugging at her stomach.

“ _That’s good enough. Trusting you has turned out well for me so far, Yang. You say she needs help, and I’ve got the money to spare.”_

Yang’s fingers that had been tapping anxiously against the thin pages of the directory stop for a moment. “Coco… you should know that a lot of people are going to start asking questions. You’re going to be in a pretty bright spotlight once you do this.”

On the other end of the line, Coco makes a sound that almost sounds like a laugh. “ _I appreciate the concern, but I’m used to being in the public light. I can handle it just fine._ ”

The corner of Yang’s mouth pulls up slightly in a faint smile as the tight constriction around her chest relaxes its vicelike grip. “I owe you one, Coco.”

“ _I seem to recall you saying that last time,”_ Coco replies good-naturedly. “ _Don’t worry about it. I’ve been in the press enough to know you can’t always trust it. You’re one of the good guys. I’ll take care of it.”_

When the call ends, Yang rakes a hand through her hair and laughs to herself in sheer relief. Yang hates that she has to rely on Coco and put her on the precinct’s radar. She’d much rather be the one to throw herself in harm’s way and raise caution to the wind. But she remembers Weiss’s advice the previous day. _You will get caught. And then what? They_ win _, Yang. That’s what._

She just has to trust Coco to follow through, and though she didn’t know the business mogul particularly well, she trusted her with this.

While she still has access to a scroll, Yang can’t help but think she really ought to send word to JNPR. Pyrrha had helped her and Blake escape with their lives—she still didn’t know how Pyrrha knew what was happening—and the least she could do was let them know she’d found a place to lay low. She knows she shouldn’t tell them where, just in case, but she can’t help but feel like she owes them something more than just dropping entirely off the radar.  

Yang had memorized their numbers a while ago thanks to frequent use of them. She pulls up their contacts and types out a quick message. _Safe. Laying low, but not giving up. No contact. Thanks for all the help. –Y._

Yang closes out of the messages and flips the cover of the Vale directory shut. She’s just about to collapse her dad’s scroll when something catches her eye. The screen defaulted to recent contacts and calls, and the name printed towards the bottom stops Yang cold.

 _Ozpin_ _(4)_

“Yang?” her father’s voice cuts in before she can think twice. Yang snaps the scroll closed instinctively before silently cursing herself. “You almost done?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Yang replies just as Taiyang appears in the doorway, a concerned crease between his brows. “Sorry. Just finished.”

She stands, brushing carpet fuzz from her pants. The morning sunlight streams in through the windows. Yang can see small particles of dust drifting in the air between the window and the floor with a slow calmness that seems even slower than normal to Yang. The world seems to be in sharper focus to Yang for a moment, sped up as her dad’s recent contact list flashes through her mind over and over like a homing beacon. _Ozpin (4)_.

“Everything okay?” Taiyang asks. Yang crosses the room and pushes the scroll into his hands as she passes him. She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t know.

…

“Wait, what do you mean your dad has been talking to Ozpin?”

Yang is sprawled out on Blake’s bed—the first time she’s been in her room—with her calves dangling off the side of it and her arms spread out to either side of her. Blake is sitting with her back against the headboard, one leg extended and one bent with her arm resting across the top of her knee. Above them, the ceiling fan spins in slow, lazy circles.

Yang sighs, her lilac eyes following one of the blades of the fan around and around and around… “After I called a friend to post Velvet’s bail, I sent a text to some other friends of mine to let them know I was safe and laying low. Before I closed the scroll, it said ‘Ozpin’ under ‘recent contacts’. Four calls.”

Blake’s room is, generally speaking, very similar to Yang’s. Same light blue walls, same size bed jutting out into the middle of the floor. The furniture has a slightly darker tint, and the bedspread is a black and white patchwork pattern. It suits Blake, Yang thinks. She can’t exactly pinpoint why.

It’s late afternoon, now. Blake has the window open, and just beyond the dark red leaves is a crystal clear blue sky. A warm breeze blows in, playing in the white lace curtains. “I’m sure he has a good reason, Yang,” she says.

“Are you?” Yang cranes her neck back to look at the other girl, locking gazes with her for a moment before looking up at the ceiling again. “Because I don’t know what to think anymore. Ozpin packed up and left without a word and then everything just…” Yang waves a hand. “And anyway, I don’t understand why my dad has had more recent contact with my former boss than I have.”

“You said Ozpin left the day I was brought in, right?” Blake asks after a moment.

Yang rolls over onto her stomach and folds her arms up by her head, her sock-clad feet in the air. She nestles her chin in her arms and looks up at the other girl. “Yeah. Then they brought in the new chief. The one you warned me about, actually.”

Yang had almost forgotten about it, but it had been sitting in the back of her mind ever since it happened. Sun had announced that the new chief wanted to speak with Yang over the interrogation room’s intercom that first time Yang was talking to her at the precinct, and Blake had told her not to trust the new chief. Yang had remembered it again when she’d been telling her uncle the story of how they ended up at the cabin—or had started to tell the story—but she hadn’t wanted to put Blake on the spot when she’d already seemed so on edge.

But now? Now it was just the two of them, and as good a time as any for Yang to finally get an answer.

“I know Mortroach isn’t actually his name,” Yang continues. “Some friends of mine looked into it and came up short. But that’s all I know.”

Blake sighs. Another breeze tugs gently at the bow on the top of her head. “Call it paranoia. It just seemed like too much of a coincidence that the person in charge changed as soon as I was brought in, and the White Fang has been after me ever since I left.”

Yang frowns, a crease appearing between her brows. “You think Mortroach is tied to the White Fang? He was pretty human when I saw him, and they hate humans, don’t they?”

Blake’s amber gaze flits away from Yang, as if ashamed. She shakes her head, then lifts a shoulder. “I know it doesn’t make sense. Call it a gut feeling.”

Yang smiles reassuringly at her. “I’ve always trusted those.” Blake offers a soft smile in return, and the blonde feels something warm pull at her chest.

“So then what’s yours telling you?” Blake asks. “About this whole Ozpin thing.”

Yang opens her mouth to answer when there’s a muffled knock, and it’s not until she shares a glance with the other girl that she realizes it wasn’t on Blake’s bedroom door. It was from the front door downstairs. Blake slowly and gracefully stands up and crosses the room towards the door as Yang pushes herself up and follows. They get halfway down the stairs when both girls stop in their tracks. Taiyang has the door swung open, his back to the girls on the stairs.

Standing in front of him, ducking into the entrance, stands a familiar man with shaggy silver hair and a cane. Yang feels her eyes widen, and sees Blake glance at her out of the corner of her eye.

“Well,” Yang says under her breath. “Speak of the devil.”

…

**A/N: I’m sorry, guys. I know this was a long wait and, what felt to me, a slow chapter (but an important one). Kind of a cliffhanger to make up for it? This cliffy was supposed to happen actually several chapters ago but these characters have minds of their own sometimes, and it made more sense this way. Any feedback you can give me goes a long way for me. It means the world.**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: So sorry it’s been a while, friends. I never intended a month to go by without updating. Things are kind of…everywhere for me right now. This chapter also gave me fits. My sincerest apologies.**

**Your patience, continued support, and feedback means the world.**

**As I do with every chapter and hopefully will continue, my thanks and gratitude to Masterpick for all he is, and all he does.**

**…**

Yang corners Ozpin a few hours later outside the cabin. Yang admits to herself that ‘corners’ is perhaps not the best word, given that he is standing outside a few yards away from the cabin door in the surrounding clearing. He’s looking at something on his scroll, pinching the bridge of his nose as Yang steps out of the cabin door and into the sunlight. Ozpin lowers his hand as he sees her approach, but he makes no move to leave. The early evening sun filters through the red leaves low in the sky.

“Miss Xiao Long,” Ozpin says easily, like he’d been expecting her.

Yang isn’t sure why she’s so _frustrated_ already but she feels the heat simmering inside her chest like a furnace waiting to blow. Maybe it’s because of how many secrets hover in the air around her like dusty cobwebs. How many people and things had been showing up recently unannounced with no explanation? The police at her apartment. Her uncle being at the cabin, still with no explanation. Her dad. Blake’s weapon. That wasn’t even mentioning the mysterious contact her dad had been having with Ozpin, or who Mortroach was, or why her dad had been doing ‘research’ in Mistral…. Yang had always dealt swiftly and directly with conflict and in getting answers when she’d been on the force. It was what had made her so good at her job when she’d been detective.

Now? Yang just wanted someone to _answer her_ for once.

Ozpin’s tone doesn’t calm her. After everything Ozpin did—or _didn’t do_ —flippancy was the last thing she wanted to hear from him. He owes her explanation, and Yang is so tired of letting people off the hook. Ozpin wanted to show back up in her life out of the blue? Fine. But he was going to answer to her first.

She stands in front of him, her arms crossed. “What are you doing here?”

“You have every right to be frustrated with me,” Ozpin replies, his voice cool, calm, and infuriatingly patient. He collapses his scroll and slips it deftly into his pocket. Yang can’t help but wonder what he’d been doing on it. She glances briefly at his pocket, then back up into his brown eyes.

“That’s not an answer.”

The sun’s glare flashes against the lenses of Ozpin’s glasses. “Your father suggested that we all meet later tonight. I have a feeling you’ll get a lot of the answers you’re seeking there.” His tone was almost reproachful. Yang replies with a cool stare.

“I’m tired of waiting for answers, sir,” Yang replies. It feels strange to her to call him ‘sir’, but she’d always referred to him as either ‘chief’ or ‘sir’, and he wasn’t chief anymore. “So with all due respect, at least tell me why you left in the first place. No warning, no goodbye. Just _gone_.”

For a moment, Ozpin says nothing. A soft breeze brushes through the strands of his silver hair. He taps the ground with his cane as if shaking dirt from it. Adjusts the frame of his glasses. “It was not my choice.”

“Even if I believed that,” Yang says, “You certainly didn’t seem to put up much of a fight. Do you know who came in after you, sir?”

“I do.”

She isn’t expecting that response. There’s a very brief moment of silence between the two, filled only with Zwei’s bark from somewhere inside the cabin.

“Then you know how you should have fought them on it.” Yang replies. “Instead you just up and left. You _ran_.” She hurls the last word at him like it’s an insult in its own right.

“You ran as well, Yang,” Ozpin reminds her. Over the top of his glasses, Yang can see his stoic gaze boring into hers. Mortroach’s words over the radio echoes again in Yang’s ears. _They are cowards for running, but we will not let them get away._

Yang shakes her head. It was different. Yang had only left when forced to, and she’d taken people with her. Blake, Weiss, Ruby. She looked out for her own, Ozpin had just… abandoned them. Yang didn’t _abandon_ people.

“No. I… I made sure my people were safe. You just left without thinking about who and what you were leaving behind.” Yang swallows hard. “Blake was tortured because you left and the guy who came in after you brought people in who….” She can’t finish the thought. Her stomach rolls at the memories.

She remembers Velvet, the thought whispering in the back of her mind that she _didn’t take everyone with her_. _She_ had _left people behind._

“I—and the people I had to leave behind, I still looked out for them. I found someone to help Velvet,” Yang says, tripping over her words and hating how insistent it sounds in her ears.

“Just as I trusted others I left to take care of those who might’ve been put in harm’s way in my absence,” Ozpin replies calmly. The way his gaze narrows slightly behind his glasses makes Yang realize he’s talking about _her_.

Yang shakes her head but she doesn’t have an answer. Was she any different than the boss who’d abandoned the precinct in its time of need? Wasn’t Ozpin right in saying that she’d done exactly the same thing? Maybe she was just like Ozpin.

“Yang?” The voice isn’t Ozpin’s this time. The door opens, and the soft familiar alto voice helps cool the simmering heat Yang could feel building in her chest. Blake steps out of the cabin, her honey-amber eyes taking one look at Yang’s face before narrowing at Ozpin. Whatever she’d come out to ask Yang seems forgotten now. She doesn’t say anything, instead opting to cross over to the blonde and stand beside her. Silent and reassuring.

“Good evening, Miss Belladonna,” Ozpin says with a slight, unruffled nod in her direction. The use of her name startles Yang for a moment. How did he know? Had he already talked to Qrow or her dad and they filled him in? Or did he already know before that?

When she glances at the girl beside her, Blake’s eyes betray even more surprise than Yang’s. “You know who I am?”

The corner of Ozpin’s mouth turns upwards. “Indeed. It was me, after all, who slipped your file into Yang’s caseload in the first place.”

The cabin door opens again. This time it’s Qrow. “Hey. Tai wants to talk to you.” Without thinking, Yang takes a step towards the door before Qrow holds up a hand. “Not you. Ozpin.”

 _Of course_ , Yang thinks, a bitter taste returning to her tongue for a moment. She remembers seeing the four calls exchanged with Ozpin on her dad’s scroll. She clenches her jaw as Ozpin steps past her, feeling Blake place her hand around Yang’s forearm. She isn’t sure if it’s to keep Yang from doing something rash or to remind Yang that she’s there. Yang is grateful for it either way.

The two men let the door ricochet close behind them.

…

Yang lets out a long breath as the clatter of balls on the pool table fills the room. She’s in the basement of the cabin with Blake, Weiss, and Ruby. Zwei is stretched out comfortably on the couch tucked into the corner, one paw crossed over the other. Yang leans against the wall with the pool cue in her hand. Her conversation with Ozpin replays over and over in her mind, but she does her best to push the thoughts aside as she watches the balls scatter across the table.

 Weiss straightens up from where she’d been leaned over the table.

“Guess that makes us stripes, Ruby?” she announces as a blue stripe ball sinks into the far corner.

“You got it,” Ruby replies cheerfully.

Yang forces a smile, shoving the thoughts clouding her head away for the time being. “I should let you know that I haven’t played this in like, eight years.”

Ruby dramatically points the end of her pool cue in Yang’s direction. “Expect no mercy!”

Weiss rolls her eyes and lines up another shot. In the corner of her gaze, standing in the corner, Yang sees Blake’s lips pull into an amused smile. The click of the cue ball hitting a purple striped ball breaks the brief silence, and though the ball rolls towards a pocket, it’s just off enough to miss. Yang shares a glance with Blake, unable to help but notice the way her violet leggings and black tank top hug her curve and angles.

“Do you wanna go first, Blake?” she asks.

“I’ll take a crack at it,” Blake replies easily, stepping forward. “If you’re sure you don’t care.”

Yang smiles at her and gestures to the table. “Show me what you’ve got, Belladonna.”

Blake arches an eyebrow, shaking her head with a faint smile as she lines up a shot. Her slender fingers bend against the wooden pool cue with practiced certainty. A swift jab, sharp click, and Yang watches both the solid yellow and dark red ball drop into the side pocket. The cue ball rolls lazily towards a corner. A striped ball sits directly between it and a solid green one perched precariously on the edge of the basket.

Yang expects her to just lightly hit the cue ball into the striped ball and send it into the solid one. It would be risky, as it might also send the striped ball into the basket too. Blake slips fluidly around the corner of the table and realigns the shot.

With a sharp, precise movement, Blake jumps the cue ball over the striped one and sinks the solid green ball. Yang has to admit she’s impressed. When she glances up, she can’t help but laugh at the way Ruby’s jaw drops.

“I want her on my team,” Ruby announces to the room.

“Hey!” Weiss feigns indignation at Ruby’s comment, but one glance at her tells her that she’s just as impressed as the rest of them.

Blake lifts a shoulder modestly. “I may have a few tricks up my sleeve,” she admits, the corner of her mouth curled in a faint smirk. She lines up a third shot, sinks the solid purple ball. Lines up a fourth, but the angle is just the faintest centimeter off and doesn’t quite make it. Weiss and Ruby both release an audible sigh of relief.

As Ruby takes her turn, Yang can’t help but look at Blake again. She seems… almost at ease here. She moves more naturally than Yang can ever remember seeing from her. Leaned against the wall, her hand falls absently to the top of Zwei’s head. Yang remembers a lifetime ago when she’d tensed when the corgi jumped up on the same couch as her. She can’t remember if she’s ever seen Blake so at peace. Yang smiles to herself.

“Yang?” Weiss’s voice catches her attention.

“Hm?”

“It’s your turn.”

“Oh,” Yang says. “Right.” She takes a look at the pool table before her, then glances at Blake. She has no easy shot, no thanks to her sister. Ruby’s amused glint in her eyes tells Yang her lack of options is absolutely intentional. Blake, on the other hand, could probably sink three in a row again if given the opportunity.

“I yield my turn to my teammate,” Yang says jokingly, jerking a thumb in Blake’s direction.

“Nope,” Ruby returns, pointing the end of her cue in Yang’s direction. “Fair is fair. You have to go.”

Yang smiles and laughs a little, holding her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay.” She looks back over at her teammate. “Any tips?”

The corner of her lips tug upwards in a faint smirk. “You could try to double bank the 2 ball into the corner pocket.”

Yang looks at the table, the alignment of the balls sprawled haphazardly. Her lilac gaze flickers doubtfully back to Blake, who—to Yang’s surprise—smiles, pushing herself off of where she’d been leaning against the wall and leaning her cue against the table. “Here.”

“Hey, Yang has to be the one to take the shot,” Weiss says lightly.

“She will be,” Blake replies easily, stepping up behind Yang. “I’m just gonna show her what I mean.”

And suddenly, Blake is _very close_. Yang can feel the faint body heat radiating off her form. Yang’s left hand already has formed the bridge with the tip of the cue nestled between her thumb and forefinger. She can feel Blake’s soft breathing ghosting over the skin of her neck as Blake peers over her shoulder at the table.

She speaks just above a whisper “You wanna hit the cue ball slightly…” she covers Yang’s grip on the cue with her own and shifts it just a fraction, “this way.”

Yang glances over her shoulder at the girl behind her. She can feel the edge of Blake’s hip pressing into her, the gentle rise and fall of her chest brushing Yang’s arm as she peers over her shoulder. The weight of Blake against her feels strangely familiar. Safe. Some of her blonde hair falls between them but Yang can still see the flecks of darker amber in her bright honey eyes. She’s so… _close_. The angle of her nose, the curve of her lips, the sharpness of her jaw, the strands of her dark hair that fall past her shoulder as she leans across the table with Yang…

It’s all right there, in a stunning high resolution.  

Yang suddenly feels very aware of the fact that her coworker and sister are watching them, waiting for them to take the shot. Yang clears her throat, looking back at the cue ball at the end of the stick in her hands without seeing it and jerks the cue forward. Yang hears the cue ball hit the walls of the table twice before a heavy _thunk_ indicates it’s fallen into a pocket. She’s not watching it; instead, she watches the satisfied, proud little tug the corner of Blake’s mouth does.

A second later, Blake seems aware that Yang is watching her because her warm honey eyes look back into Yang’s lilac ones. Their noses are almost close enough to brush against the other.

“That was amazing!” Ruby exclaims excitedly as the ball sinks into the pocket. Blake blinks a few times like she’s coming out of a trance, pulling away suddenly. She turns and grabs her cue from the table and for a fleeting moment, Yang swears Blake’s cheeks have a faint pink flush to them. If Ruby notices, she doesn’t let on as she continues. “Blake, how’d you get so good at this?”

Blake busies herself by grabbing the piece of chalk off the corner of the pool table and twisting it on the top of her cue. “I, uh… played a lot after I left the White Fang.” The way she hesitates, Yang knows that it wasn’t an accidental slip of the tongue. Blake glances at Weiss, whose pale blue eyes look up sharply.

Yang has the feeling that _played_ probably meant _hustled_. But a bigger part of her is still reeling from the fact that Blake just openly admitted to being a former member of the White Fang, knowing full well Weiss’s hatred of the extremist group. Yang feels a brief swell of pride in Blake—it took no small dose of courage to just do what she did—but it quickly gives way to concern. The argument that had broken out in the kitchen a few days ago hadn’t exactly gone well, and Blake had just laid it all out.

“You were in the White Fang?” Ruby asks after a beat of silence. She sounds curious. Surprised more than anything. Weiss’s icy gaze narrows first at Blake, then at Yang as if to demand _did you know this?_

“I was,” Blake answers. She looks at Weiss again. “I’m _not_ anymore.” There’s a weariness in her voice. Yang wonders for a moment just how many times Blake has had to defend herself with that statement. How many people she’s told it to. How many times she’s told it to herself.

It’s then that Yang notices how Blake has literally pressed herself against the wall. Like she’s been cornered. The bow sags just a little on the top of her head and Yang can’t help but wonder if her cat ears underneath are flattened against her head like they’d been in the interrogation room so many times. How many times has Blake had to answer for her past? To apologize for it? Nobody had demanded the same of Yang.

“Why did you leave?” Ruby asks softly. Yang catches the way her sister glances between Blake and Weiss. She has no doubt that Ruby remembers that argument just as much as Yang does.  

“Because they started hurting innocent people. They had been for a while, I’d just…” Her amber gaze floats past Ruby to Weiss. Though she’s still answering Ruby’s question, Yang is pretty sure Blake isn’t just speaking to her anymore. “I’d been blind to it. I came to realize it wasn’t justice, it was spite. And I should’ve left sooner.”

Weiss’s icy stare cuts the air like a knife aiming straight for Blake. Yang has no illusions that her coworker is just as upset with her as she is with Blake. Yang had known, after all. Had known for quite some time, in fact, and hadn’t told Weiss about Blake’s history with the White Fang. Yang had known vaguely about Weiss’s family history with the extremist group, but she’d never seemed comfortable going into much detail about it. But Yang knows the history is violent and bloody. And now? Weiss had just been told a former member of the group was standing in the same room as her. The same girl Weiss had sacrificed her career for. Put her life on the line to help her escape.

Where did that leave them? Yang honestly didn’t know. Her coworker’s cold expression made her hard to read.Weiss takes in a breath as if to speak, but another voice calls down from the top of the stairs.

“Girls?”

“In here, dad,” Yang calls back, grateful for the distraction. His heavy footsteps creaks on the old stairs. Taiyang appears in the doorway of the basement, ducking under a low beam. The tension in the air lingers, and from the way her dad glances between the girls, even he’s able to pick up on it.

“Everything okay here?” he asks, frowning.

“It’s great,” Yang lies, perhaps a bit too quickly. “What did you need, dad?”

“Can you come upstairs? We… need to talk.”

The request reminds Yang of what Ozpin had said earlier in the evening. _Your father suggested that we all meet later tonight._ Yang’s earlier frustration—at Ozpin, at her father, at everything—starts to bubble back to the surface. “I’ll be up in a sec,” Yang replies.

“Not just you, Yang,” Taiyang says. “Everyone. We have some information we think you girls need to know.”

…

**A/N: So many questions, so few answers. Please let me know what you think so far. Whether its speculation or feedback or anything else, I really love hearing from you all!**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Thank you so much to those of you who left feedback on the last chapter. I know it was a bit of a slower pace, but it was setting up some important stuff, and it always means a ton to me when you guys take the time to read and review/comment. ^u^**

**My thanks and gratitude to my beta, Masterpick. This is an unbeta'd chapter, but hardly the first draft. Masterpick and I are both extremely busy with end-of-the-semester push, but so I thought I'd let him off the hook for this one. Wanted to get this out there for y'all.**

**I’ve kept you guessing on quite a few things thus far, friends. But lots of answers lie in the chapter ahead of you. Also more questions. It’s dense, but hopefully well-anticipated. I am at once excited and scared for y’all to read it, but either way here it is.**

*****Edited 12/5/2017. See note at the end of the chapter.**

**Comfy?**

**Good. Lezzgo.**

…

The granite countertop feels cool against Yang’s forearms as she leans against it. The window above the sink shows an overcast night sky, like dark milky ink. The outline of tree tops blend into the night sky in a blur. Inside the cabin, the overhead kitchen light offers a warm, soft glow. Weiss and Ruby are seated on the barstools in front of the kitchen island to Yang’s right. Sitting on the counter beside the sink is Blake. The darkness of her bow seems to be accented by the darkness that bleeds beyond the window.

“So what’s this about?” Yang asks to the room, breaking the momentary silence.

Taiyang—straddling a kitchen table chair with his arms folded over the top of the back of it—sighs. “We know you have a lot of questions. All of you.” He glances at Ozpin. “We… disagreed on how best to address everything. We wanted to give you all a chance to relax and rest first.” From the look in her dad’s eyes, Yang was pretty sure that ‘we’ really meant ‘I’. A part of her is grateful that her dad wanted to give them a break. Another part of her is frustrated that he kept something from them.

“But necessity has sort of forced our hand,” Qrow adds as he unscrews the top of his silver flask.

“Necessity?” Weiss asks, the slight lilt in her voice betraying her curiosity.                                                                                                      

The jingle of Zwei’s collar cuts through the pause that follows Weiss’s question. Ruby pats her lap and wraps an arm around the corgi as he happily jumps up into her lap, her other hand ruffling the fur between his big ears.

Taiyang runs a hand across his eyes. Ozpin is the one to speak up. “I suppose it would not be unfitting for me to begin by addressing my leaving the precinct at the same time that Yang brought Blake into custody. It was an… unfortunate last minute decision.”

Yang frowns, thinking back to the conversation she’d had with him a few hours ago. “Earlier, you hinted that you knew who Blake was. Not as ‘Black’, but as  _Blake_. And you were the one who put her on my caseload from the beginning. But when we finally caught her, you left.”

Ozpin nods, folding his hands over his staff. “Indeed. I knew quite a lot about her from the beginning, including her defecting from the White Fang prior to her criminal activity in Vale that got the Vale Police Department’s attention. I also knew that the White Fang has been after her ever since she left.”

“How do you know all of that?” Blake asks, straightening up slightly. Yang sees the bow on the top of her head twitch.

The corner of Ozpin’s mouth pulls into a faint, knowing smile. “I think you’ll all come to find that my contact network is rather extensive.”

Yang’s gaze narrows at the man across the counter from her. “You have contacts in the White Fang?”

“No,” Ozpin says, simply and assuredly. “But word of Blake’s defection was quite the news, particularly in Menagerie. It reached ears beyond just the White Fang.”

Yang spares another glance at the girl to her left. Blake opens her mouth like she’s about to ask something, but she stops. Her honey eyes flit away from Ozpin to Yang, and then down at the dusty wooden floors. Yang doesn’t understand it, but she can’t help but want to walk over and take her hand. Assure her that whatever she’s worried about is okay.

She doesn’t. Yang is all too aware of the room full of other people around, and all the questions she has yet to get answered.

Weiss’s inquisitive soprano voice cuts in. “Why didn’t you tell what you knew to the precinct? We—They might’ve caught her sooner if they’d known all of that.”

“It wasn’t a risk I could take,” Ozpin explains. “Announcing to the precinct of Blake’s previous involvement in the White Fang would only put her in more danger, and likely would increase the chances that the White Fang would get to her before we would be able to.”

Yang doesn’t buy it. Not fully, anyway. Ozpin’s explanation makes it sound like his intention in having Yang track her own and bring her into custody was about protecting Blake, but that didn’t line up with him then leaving when she was at her most vulnerable. Whatever Ozpin had in mind, Yang didn’t believe that it was about protecting the girl beside her. Or at least, that wasn’t the full story.

“If you were so concerned with the White Fang getting to Blake first,” Yang replies, doing her best to keep the growing anger out of her voice, “then why did you leave as soon as she was brought into custody?”

“Yang,” Taiyang speaks up in a quiet, placating voice. Yang recognizes that tone.  _Calm down_.

“No, it’s quite all right,” Ozpin says, lifting a hand towards Tai. “She’s right of course. I assumed that Blake likely had very important information about the White Fang, hence why they were pursuing her whereabouts. I should have had enough foresight to know that as soon as she was brought in, they’d find a way to usurp me and take control. I hadn’t realized that they’d been so prepared for it. I thought I still had enough time, but that was a mistake on my part.” He bows his head slightly.

“Who is ‘they’, sir?” Ruby speaks up quietly. Her hand still rests in Zwei’s fur, scratching absently at the scruff of his neck.

“The White Fang.”

“Hold up,” Yang says, shaking her head. “You mean to tell me that the White Fang had enough of a presence in the Vale Police Department that they could just… take your position whenever they wanted? You were the  _chief_. You ran everything in there.” Then again, hadn’t Blake had similar suspicions? Yang glances at the girl sitting on the counter, noticing the way her slender brows were drawn together in thought.

Qrow’s drawl slurs together a little more than usual as he takes another sip out of his flask. “With the right people in the right places, Yang, you’ll be surprised what kind of mountains can be moved.”

Yang’s brow furrows slightly, the puzzle pieces sliding together. Was that why he didn’t say goodbye? He was forced out of his position as chief? Did they force him out of Vale somehow, or just out of his position in the precinct? And what kind of political  _reach_  did that mean they have? What else did they secretly control?

And then there was the question of ‘they’ in the first place. If the ‘they’ that forced Ozpin out were affiliated with the White Fang, did that mean that the person who replaced him was put there by the White Fang in the first place? Hadn’t Mortroach been human?

Yang remembers the way that Nancy’s eyes had flashed from hazel to two different colors: one pink, and one brown. What else might’ve been different about her appearance, if she was somehow hiding it? And did that mean Mortroach could also hide his appearance, perhaps with Nancy’s help? If that was the case, he could be anybody.

Yang’s head is spinning so much she grips the edge of the counter as if it might ground her.

It takes her a second to find the words, and she asks the next question very carefully. “You seem to know a fair amount about the people who got you to leave. What about the man that came in to replace you? Nick W. Mortroach?”

To Yang’s surprise, it’s her dad that answers. “We believe the name is an alias. We’re fairly confident that Mortroach is actually Roman Torchwick.”

 _So that’s what my dad and Qrow had been talking about_ , Yang realizes as she remembers the name from overhearing them a few nights ago. When Tai had mentioned him replacing someone, that ‘someone’ had been Ozpin.

“Torchwick? As in Torchwick Bank?” Weiss asks, stunned.

“Didn’t they have that Faunus Equality scandal a few weeks ago?” Ruby asks. “Why would a Faunus extremist group partner with the owner of a bank whose practices go against Faunus rights?”

Taiyang shifts in the chair, the legs of it scraping against the wood floor. “Honestly? We don’t know.”

“ _Yet_ ,” Qrow adds emphatically. The flask almost slips clumsily from his hand, but he catches it before it hits the floor.

Suddenly, another detail sparks in Yang’s memory. “Blake,” Yang says, turning to her. “You targeted Torchwick Bank clients. Did it… have anything to do with a connection to the White Fang?”

Blake purses her lips, then shakes her head apologetically. “I pulled from them because the bank’s practices have always been questionable in their treatment of the Faunus even before it got thrown into the limelight. That, and Torchwick Bank tended to attract more... well-off clients who could take the hit to their accounts while I helped families in Menagerie. Torchwick’s relationship with the White Fang has to be recent. I hadn’t heard anything like it when I left.”

Yang purses her lips in thought and nods. As the pieces started to fall into place, forgotten puzzle pieces started to pop up and she can’t help but feel an old nostalgic eagerness to get every nook and cranny out in the open.

“What about Mortroach? Did you know the White Fang was going to replace Ozpin?” Weiss asks her after a moment.

Blake swallows, glancing at her shoes before her honey eyes lift slowly to meet Yang’s. One glance and Yang knew that she remembered telling Yang the suspicion she’d had about the new chief’s involvement with the White Fang. Back then, she’d said it had been mostly paranoia. A gut feeling. _Yang had always trusted those._

Blake lets her gaze fall back to Weiss as she responds. “I knew that the White Fang had… extensive reach. More than you know. They had started some of those initiatives when I’d left, and I knew my leaving had only spurred them to push those plans harder. I was… paranoid, when I heard that the Vale PD had a ‘new’ chief. But I didn’t know anything. Not for certain, anyway.”

Yang still feels a faint sense of disappointment at the dead-end she already knew existed, but she offers a faint, reassuring smile to the other girl anyway. It’s not Blake’s fault she doesn’t know anything more than that. It’s surprising, to say the least, that the three men in the room know as much as they’ve indicated they do. Ozpin had mentioned something about an extensive network of contacts, but that didn’t explain her dad or her uncle’s involvement.

“How do you know all of this?” she asks, the ‘you’ open ended to the three adults even as her lilac gaze falls squarely on her dad.

“That,” Qrow says, pointing the open mouth of the flask in Yang’s direction, “is another story entirely. But the short version, when it comes to your dad, is that I’m the one who dragged him into it.”

“But—,”

“I was doing some intel gathering in Mistral for Oz and your uncle around the time you brought Blake into custody,” Taiyang interrupts, his voice calm and solemn. His dark blue eyes meet Yang’s for a moment before floating to the other girls in the room as he continues, “It took some digging, but rumors started circulating deep in the slums about the White Fang partnering with the owner of Torchwick bank. A few days later, Ozpin got into contact with me again and told me he’d been removed from his position. It didn’t take too much more for us to put it together, in light of everything else.”

There’s a brief moment of silence that settles over the cabin, interrupted only by Zwei’s obliviously happy panting and the creak of floorboards as Qrow shifts his weight. The quietness only seems to add to the weight that hangs over the room.

Yang barely notices. So many disjointed thoughts and memories swirl together in her mind in a jumbled blur. She had been a detective: fitting puzzle pieces of information together had been her passion and livelihood for several years. A part of her could feel a thrum of familiar excitement, another part entirely felt faintly dizzy with the onslaught of new information.

“Gambol Shroud,” Blake says suddenly, breaking the momentary silence. “My weapon that came here in the mail a couple days ago. Was… that you?” Her eyes glance to Ozpin.

He arches a dark eyebrow, mirroring the surprise that Yang feels at the question. “Me?” he asks. “I’m afraid not. I haven’t been back in Vale since I had to leave. Whoever sent you your weapon, Miss Belladonna, it was not me. My best guess is it was probably someone in the precinct. I do still have a few loyal contacts there.”

Yang frowns. Someone in the precinct who knew about the secret cabin, and knew that Blake was staying here? She shares a glance with Blake, and can tell from the crease between her slender brows that she’s thinking along the same lines.

“I still don’t understand why you’re telling us all of this now,” Weiss speaks up. “You said it was a ‘necessity’. What makes it a necessity?”

Taiyang purses his lips. “I think that’s enough for one night—,”

“Dad,” Yang interrupts.

Taiyang gives his daughter a long, unreadable look. Then, as if relenting, he sighs and stands up. He slides the wooden chair he’d been straddling back under the table as he answers. “Ruby, Weiss… you girls mentioned seeing White Fang members while you were on your way here, right?”

Ruby nods, Zwei still in her lap. “Twice, I think.”

Yang and Blake had run into White Fang themselves, even if she hadn’t mentioned it with anybody but Blake yet. So much White Fang activity in a relatively remote location certainly raised some flags. Rarely would White Fang members travel with anything to denote them as members of the group unless they had power in numbers. Which meant…

Blake speaks exactly the same conclusion Yang reaches. “There’s a White Fang encampment nearby, isn’t there?”

“We think so,” Qrow says. Taiyang pulls his scroll out of his pocket, opening it and pressing a few buttons as he steps up to the kitchen island. With one more press of his thumb, a map of Forever Fall projects outward from it across the counter in a neon blue.

“We are here,” Taiyang explains, typing on his scroll as a red marker appears above the map to pinpoint their location. “With the help of some contacts—Goodwitch and Ironwood, especially—we’re pretty sure the White Fang encampment is about here.” Another red marker, a few miles northwest of their current location.

Yang looks over at Blake, who shifted forward from where she’d been leaning against the wall sitting on the counter. Now the map had her full attention, her elbows propped on her knees as her honey gaze flits calculatingly over the map. Yang can tell just from looking at her that her mind is probably going a mile a minute. She looks… ready. Eager, almost.

Blake seems to sense that Yang is looking at her, because a moment later her gaze tears away from the map and meets hers. Not eager, Yang realizes in that instant.  _Hopeful_.

“So you want us to go and… do what, exactly?” Ruby asks. There’s no bite in the question. It’s asked with the same careful calculation that makes her sister such a great weapons engineer. Yang always had always trusted her younger sister’s judgement for that very reason.

“Giving Torchwick a job promotion was just the tip of the iceberg,” Qrow explains, sounding to Yang abruptly sober. “We know something big is in the works, but we need inside information. The White Fang encampment so close to Vale should have some of the answers we need about what they’re planning, when they’re going to implement it, and who is involved.”

“We want to send in a small infiltration team,” Taiyang continues, his gaze shifting to look at each girl individually. “Get in, get the information, and get out. Ideally, nobody is going to know we were even there.”

Yang pushes off from where she’d been leaning against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. There are seven of them, and she has a feeling that they aren’t planning on all seven of them going. It’s too big of a number. Which really left one question.

“So who gets to be on this team?”

…

**A/N: Some of you knew immediately who Mortroach was as soon as I said his name. Others, this may have been a bit of a revelation. Lots of answers for you all. But lots of questions too. Scary to post, to be honest with you, friends. What did ya think? Lemme know!**

*****Edited 12/5/2017: As I was rereading the last few chapters, I stumbled across a major error in this one. Somehow, in all of my notes and planning, I’d forgotten that I’d already revealed something in a previous chapter, and it made no sense in how it was introduced again in this chapter. I have done my best to fix it. My sincerest apologies for the mistake.**

 


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Hi, friends! A billion million apologies to you all. More than an entire month flew by, and the hustle and bustle of the holidays kept me pretty busy and occupied. I hope everyone had a lovely holiday and a great start to the New Year. A new year, new adventures await.**

**Keep your heads up. I’m happy you’re here.**

**My continuing thanks to and for Masterpick. This wouldn’t be the same story without him. Unbeta’d chapter ahead (but edited by yours truly), as we’ve both been pretty busy but I really wanted to get this out there for you all. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. Apologies for them and for typos.**

**…**

_Previously:_

_“We want to send in a small infiltration team,” Taiyang continues, his gaze shifting to look at each girl individually. “Get in, get the information, and get out. Ideally, nobody is going to know we were even there.”_

_Yang pushes off from where she’d been leaning against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. There are seven of them, and she has a feeling that they aren’t planning on all seven of them going. It’s too big of a number. Which really left one question._

_“So who gets to be on this team?”_

_…_

For the brief moment that follows the question, the whir of the refrigerator is the loudest noise in the kitchen. Yang glances at the digital clock above the stove. _12:32_ _AM_ blinks in urgent green blocks. Was it really just this morning that she’d called Coco to bail Velvet out?

“We know Ozpin is out of the running,” Qrow says eventually. “He might as well be a walking neon sign to the White Fang.”

Yang nods. It makes sense. “That puts Blake out, too, right?”

“Well,” Taiyang begins, but Weiss interrupts him.

“No, Blake should definitely go,” she says. Yang looks at her in surprise. Less than an hour ago, she’d seemed stunned that Blake had once been part of the extremist group. If anything, Yang had been expecting Weiss to argue against Blake’s involvement. She chances a glance at the Faunus in question, noticing that her eyes are just as wide as Yang’s.

“You… want me to go?” Blake asks softly.

Weiss looks at her, then sighs. “If we’re going to infiltrate the White Fang, it would be helpful to have an actual Faunus who knows the networks and protocols involved.” It feels to Yang like an incomplete answer. But when Weiss and Blake lock gazes, and both girls smile, Yang figures that whatever had been tense between the two of them was maybe on its way towards some kind of unspoken resolution. It makes Yang smile too.

“I agree,” Yang adds.

Ruby frowns, glancing at Blake worriedly. “But if Ozpin isn’t coming because we know the White Fang is after him… Blake has an even bigger target on her back. Is it really safe for her to come? I know the White Fang have those masks, but still.”

“That’s exactly why she isn’t going alone. We’ve got her back,” Yang replies, sharing a glance with her sister. She speaks with a suddenly burst of confidence that she hadn’t felt since before they broke out of the precinct. She looks at Blake. “If anything goes wrong, we’re right behind you.”

Blake cuts in with a shake of her head, making Yang’s stomach sink a little. “Wait. I can get in and out quick enough on my own. It’s not safe for humans in a White Fang encampment. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Blake’s eyes settle squarely on Yang and linger a moment too long before she breaks her gaze again. “Any of you.”

“You’re not going by yourself,” Yang says defensively. “If nobody else, I’m at least coming with you.”

“This is more than just a two person job,” Taiyang adds calmly, and opens his mouth to say more before Weiss interrupts.

“Then I’m coming too. Yang and I have similar training.”

“Me too,” Ruby adds.

“Whoa,” Taiyang says, holding out a hand. “Ruby, you’re not going. You’re an undergrad student in weapons engineering. You have no training in anything like this. You’re staying home, where it’s safe.”

Ruby’s silver eyes glance up from Zwei in her lap to lock onto her father unwaveringly. “Dad.” She pulls Crescent Rose from where it was collapsed at her hip and holds it out, pressing a button that causes it to quickly unfold beside her. “I can do this.”

Yang feels a familiar swell of pride expand in her chest.

“Not that I don’t admire your spunk, kid,” Qrow drawls, screwing the top back onto the silver flask in his hand. “But we’re going for something a bit more discreet here.”

Ruby presses another button so that it folds up into the sniper rifle function. “As I’ve said before, it’s also a gun. Long-distance at that. If things go south, I can give them some cover without getting into the middle of things.” It’s a compromise. Yang knew her sister well enough that “out of the way” wasn’t exactly her style, but she’d adjust if it meant coming with them.

Qrow and Tai exchange a look before Qrow lifts a shoulder and Taiyang sighs. “Fine. Just be careful.”

 Yang takes in a deep breath to calm the adrenaline already beginning to flood her system. “So that’s it? The four of us?”

“Don’t worry,” Taiyang replies, crossing his arms over his chest. “We won’t be as far as you think. We’ve got ways to have a… bird’s eye view of the situation.” He glances at Qrow, who smirks as if he’d made a joke.

“Everybody try to get some rest tonight,” Ozpin says after a moment. “The rest of the plan can wait until tomorrow. It’s late enough as it is.”

“Uh, about that,” Taiyang speaks up before anyone can move. “With Oz here, we’re a little more pressed for space. So we’re gonna have to ask you girls to pair up to share a room. That way your uncle can also stop sleeping on the couch.”

“I can sleep anywhere, Tai,” Qrow replies dismissively.

“Just because you’ve fallen asleep on park benches before—“

“I can room with Weiss,” Ruby offers, interrupting her dad’s quip. That would mean that Blake would be rooming with Yang. The blonde glances at the girl sitting on the counter. Her hand tingles slightly at remembering the way the other girl had covered it to guide the pool stick earlier that evening. The warm honey in her eyes the other night on the roof…

Yang tries not to think about why her heartbeat picks up a little. It was probably the lingering adrenaline from the flood of information she’d gotten tonight. 

Taiyang glances between Blake and Yang before turning to his other daughter. “Actually, Ruby, why don’t you room with Blake instead? Weiss, you’ll be with Yang.”

It takes Yang by surprise. It’s not that Yang minds sharing a room with Weiss; they’d had a few stakeouts together, after all, so they were used to sharing space. Her dad’s desire to not put Weiss and Blake in the same room together also makes sense to her—she couldn’t be sure yet that the tension between them had completely dissipated despite the brief exchange they’d just had—but she doesn’t quite understand the look Taiyang wears when he glances again between her and Blake.

 “Yang?” Ruby asks. “Does that work for you?”

She blinks, shaking her head as if to clear it. “Huh? Sorry. Yeah, of course.”

…

Yang rolls over to glare blearily at her alarm clock. Weiss’s soft breaths from the floor are only barely louder than the crickets from outside the cabin. The room is still dark, the sun not yet risen to stream through the blinds. Has it really only been an hour since she collapsed into bed, both exhausted and buzzing with a whirlwind of thoughts? She knew very little about the camp’s layout, procedures, and protocols, but she couldn’t help the way her mind filled with ideas and potential scenarios and the millions of different possible outcomes.

Yang’s mind keeps her awake by reviewing the facts that had been thrown out from the night’s meeting. Ozpin had already known about Blake’s identity and involvement with the White Fang from the beginning. He also knew that the White Fang had been after her ever since she left, which is why he didn’t want to tell the precinct what he knew. Ozpin had wanted to reach her first because of the chance that she’d had important information about the White Fang.

Yang pauses at that. What kind of information did he expect her to have? And why did he want it? Was it simply to stop the terrorist group in its tracks, or was he hoping that having more information on them might help secure his job, which he knew was in danger from a covert White Fang presence within the network of the city? Some other reason?

Yang stares up at the ceiling in thought. The White Fang’s general motive had almost always been about instilling fear in the human population as a means of demanding equality and respect. In more recent years when they were responsible for an event or attack, they weren’t usually shy about taking credit for it. If the group had enough people in positions of power so as to quietly and quickly remove the chief of the police department from his position of power, why keep that a secret? Why wouldn’t the White Fang boast of the power it had in the city?

Unless…. That was a means to an end, and they had something bigger planned. And if that was the case, maybe that was why they were also willing to partner with Torchwick despite the equality scandal at the bank he owns. It had to be something big for them to go against their founding principle of Faunus equality when everything they’ve done is in the name of achieving it.

Yang feels the cold adrenaline seep back into her muscles as the reality of the situation begins to settle. She shifts fruitlessly around in the mess of sheets and blankets, trying to calm her thoughts enough to fall asleep.

Her mind eventually drifts to Blake.

A small part of her wants to roll out of bed and pad down the short hallway and see if the other girl is also still awake and washed away in thoughts of what lies ahead. Yang wants to talk about it with someone, and even though she’s too tired to think hard about _why,_ she knows she really wants that ‘someone’ to be Blake. Yang ignores the urge, however; there’s a better chance that knocking quietly on her door would just wake her up, and everyone should be getting some rest before they go over the plans tomorrow and start setting things in motion.

Yang looks at the clock again. Another forty-five minutes have passed.

 _I give up_ , Yang thinks, annoyed, but she’s too tired for even her thoughts to have much aggression behind them. She kicks her legs out from under the blankets and quietly pads around Weiss asleep on the floor before leaving the room.

…

Yang presses the button to open the microwave door a split second before the alarm would have gone off and pulls the warm mug of milk out, cupping her hands gently around it. She stands in the dark kitchen in her socks, having not bothered to turn on any lights. It takes her back for a moment to when she was young and couldn’t sleep from a nightmare, except then it was usually Summer who would stick a cup of milk in the microwave and affectionately ruffle her hair. After that, her mom would tuck Yang back into bed and sit beside her and read her a story until she fell asleep.

The night after she died was the first time Yang heated the milk by herself.

“Yang?”

Ruby’s soft soprano voice floats through the darkness. Yang looks up, just barely able to make out the silhouette of her sister standing in the entryway into the kitchen. Even in the dark, Yang can tell her sister’s short hair is a bit of a mess. It makes her smile.

“Yeah, it’s me, sis.” Yang reaches over and flips the light above the stove on, bathing the kitchen in a faint yellow glow. She sets the warm cup of milk in her hands on the counter and slides it down to Ruby as her sister takes a seat on one of the barstools. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

The corner of her sister’s mouth curls up as she cups her hands around the ceramic mug. “Nope.” She takes a swallow of the milk as Yang grabs the half-gallon out of the refrigerator and pours herself another glass, sticking it in the microwave. Ruby hums softly as she closes her eyes. “It reminds me of mom,” she says quietly.

The corner of Yang’s pulls into a faint smile. “Yeah. Me too.”

The moment of silence that follows is jolted by the sound of the microwave beeping. Yang jumps a little and smiles sheepishly at her sister’s grin before pulling her own cup of warmed milk out. She stands across the counter from her sister, leaning against it. She watches the steam curl up and disappear into the air.

“She’d be proud of you, you know,” Ruby says after a moment.

The comment makes Yang freeze for a second before she turns her lilac eyes on her sister. “Proud of both of us,” she replies, recovering from the surprise with a soft smile. She pauses, her smile wavering. “Look, Ruby, I… it means a lot that you’re gonna be joining us…” She breaks off with a sigh. Ruby could take care of herself. Yang knew that perhaps better than anyone. But Taiyang was right when he’d said that she hadn’t exactly trained for this kind of thing…

Ruby takes another sip of milk, her silver eyes glancing up at her sister. “Yang, do you remember that night when you came home and told me to get out of town?”

It had been right after she’d decided she was going to try to break Blake out of the VPD. Wordlessly, Yang nods.

“I told you that I had your back. That’s not something that ever changes.” Ruby speaks with a quiet, assured confidence. There’s a simplicity in the statement that strikes Yang as being a unique trait of her sister. Ruby always spoke with simplicity and conviction and no trace of manipulation. It made her easy to believe. It made her easy to trust.

But still in the back of her mind, Yang isn’t quite able to shake the swirling thoughts that had been making her head spin before she’d gotten out of bed. She sighs and takes a long swallow of warm milk. “What do you think the plan is gonna be tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure,” Ruby admits. “I’ve been turning over countless possibilities in my head since we left the kitchen.” Yang nods thoughtfully. So had she. Perhaps Blake had been right when she’d said that she and her sister were more alike than first impression would imply.

Ruby continues. “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow, huh?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Ruby brushes a few strands of disheveled hair out of her face as she looks thoughtfully at her sister. “Have you talked to Blake about any of it?”

Yang raises her cup to her lips but it stills in front of her mouth at her sister’s question. “I didn’t want to keep her awake. Why?”

Ruby shrugs, but she’s looking at Yang with an expression that the older sister can’t quite decipher. “I was just wondering how she’s doing with it all. We’re about to go straight into the White Fang. A group of people she’s been outrunning for a while, right?”

Yang sets the cup on the counter with a quiet click and stares into the white drink. In the back of her mind, Yang had been having similar thoughts. Blake had sworn to herself and Yang and everyone else that she’d never go back. She’d been escaping from their pursuit time and again, had spent so long running away, and now she’d been signed up to head right back into them. To be surrounded by them and steal from them. And though Yang knew it was probably a long shot, what if Adam was there?

Was she asking too much from Blake? Technically, the girl hadn’t even volunteered to go in the first place.

“Yeah,” Yang answers her sister’s question hollowly. “She has.”

Something softens even more in Ruby’s eyes. “We’ll protect her, Yang.”

“I know,” Yang nods absently. She’s staring unseeing at the corner of the counter. “But she’s… got a lot of faith in Oz’s plan to be willing to come with us.” That had to be it, right? Blake hadn’t protested coming along because she believes that Ozpin’s plan—whatever it turns out to be—will work without much risk. Why else would the girl risk so much when she’d spent the last however long running from them?

“Nope.”

Surprised, Yang’s lilac gaze snaps to Ruby’s. Her sister has a soft, knowing smile that makes Yang frown. “What?”

“Blake’s faith isn’t in Ozpin, Yang. It’s in you.” She takes another longer swallow of milk, tipping the glass practically upside down as she drains the rest of it. Yang turns and rinses her own cup out in the sink.

 Her sister’s words reminds Yang of the night on the roof. What had Blake said? _If anyone can, it’s you, Yang_. But this was different. Then, she’d been talking about getting Velvet out of jail. Blake didn’t even need to be involved at all with that. Now? Now she was asking so much of her…

“How do you know?” Yang asks over her shoulder. She turns the faucet off as her sister answers.

“Because I see the way she looks at you.”

When Yang whirls around, her heartbeat abruptly skipping in her chest. She hopes it doesn’t show on her face. “What do you mean _the way she looks at me_?”

Ruby raises her eyebrows slightly, her head tilting ever so slightly. “It’s the same way you look at her.” Her silver eyes look surprisingly bright in the dim lighting.

Yang blinks, trying to think of what to say in response but the only thoughts she has are Ruby’s words echoing in her mind over and over again. She’s about to ask what her sister means by that when the dark-haired girl yawns and slides off the stool.

“That milk really did the trick. Guess mom always knew just the thing.” Ruby smiles at her sister, the sleepiness making her eyelids droop a bit. “G’night, Yang. Thanks for the milk.”

Yang opens her mouth as if to say something, but closes it. For a moment, the only sound Yang hears are the crickets outside and the hum of the kitchen appliances. When she tries to speak again, she can hear her sister already halfway up the stairs.

“Goodnight, sis.”

…

**A/N: Scary to post, friends, but here it is anyway. Reviews and comments mean the absolute world to me. Let me know what you think so far?**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Apologies for the wait, as always. As some of you may remember from around this time of year last year, I do my best to take extra care of my mental and emotional well-being because it’s a little harder on me January-mid March than normal. Sometimes writing helps with that a lot, but sometimes I need a break/what will help me that day does not involve working on the chapter. I still write and do my best to keep up with the updates, but they often take me a little longer to get out. Additionally, I don’t want to force/rush through a chapter and have it be subpar for you all. I want to give you the best I can even when it takes a little longer. Long chapter to make up for it.**

**I hope you all understand. ^u^ And I also hope you all are also taking care of yourselves and one another.**

**Particularly grateful to and for my beta Masterpick. I say this every chapter, but that’s because my gratitude continues and grows each and every chapter.**

**…**

“Ruby, are you in position?”

The static in Yang’s ear piece cuts in for a brief moment before her sister chimes, “ _Yeah. Got a good vantage point from up here. I can see most of the camp._ ”

Yang fights the urge to scrunch her nose awkwardly against the alien feeling of the White Fang mask covering the top half of her face. It’s thick and stiff, and despite Blake’s assurances she doubts that she’ll ‘just get used to it after a while’. Leaves and branches scratches her arms, but she stays crouched in the cover of the bushes. To her left, Weiss wears a matching mask with the tight black hood already pulled over her hair. On the other side of her, Blake’s eyes seem sharper in the dark of night. Her mask lays on the ground beside her.

It had surprised her when Blake had explained that, in most cases, the White Fang wore the mask any time they were together in the same place and outside of their tents. _They’re a symbol_ , Blake had explained the previous day. _Humanity wanted to make monsters out of us, so we chose to don the faces of monsters_.

The explanation had made Yang uneasy. A part of her wanted to explain that _she_ didn’t want to ‘make monsters’ out of the Faunus. But she had stopped herself. _This happens more often than you’d think_ , Sun had told her a lifetime ago. The bartender telling her that most Faunus did their best to hide their traits when out in public. Blake’s explanation of Velvet’s family history, _the dad died in a mining accident… nobody cared enough to run adequate security inspections since they only operated in and hired from low-income Faunus regions._

It wasn’t about just her. It was more than just how one person felt. When Blake had said _humanity_ , she’d been speaking in much larger terms than just one or a few people. It wasn’t a generalization, exactly, it was something else. Something bigger and important.

It’s not that it justifies the White Fang’s actions. They are still using hate and violence to coerce and hurt others, and they need to be stopped. But for the longest time, Yang had never truly understood the reason behind it all. But recently, a part of her felt like she was starting to see things a bit more clearly.

All three—four, if you count Ruby a few hundred yards away—have their gaze trained carefully on the security patrol at the perimeter of the encampment. Yang glances at the time on her scroll. Based on the intel Ozpin shared, there should be an exchange of patrol in a few minutes. During that exchange, the current patrol meets at the main entrance, gives their report, and a new patrol team takes their place. The entire process, supposedly, left an approximately two minute window of time where the positions—save for the main entrance—were unmanned.

Which is exactly why Yang crouches hidden in the trees and underbrush of Forever Fall at the opposite end of the camp with Weiss and Blake.

“One minute,” Blake says, her voice echoing in the ear piece. Yang glances at her out of the corner of her eye, partially obscured by the mask. In the flurry of information, planning, and traveling that had been the past two days… Yang hadn’t been able to get Blake alone long enough to really check in with her. Meanwhile, her conversation with her sister two days ago still sits in the back of her mind. _Blake’s faith isn’t in Ozpin, Yang. It’s in you… I see the way she looks at you. It’s the same way you look at her._

“Here we go,” Weiss says, breaking Yang out of her thoughts. The White Fang guard they’d been watching carefully yawns, looks at his watch, and seems to perk up at realizing his shift was over. He starts towards the main entrance, away from his station. Behind them, a bird takes off from a branch with a sharp flap of its wings. Yang pulls her hood up. Blake wordlessly slips the mask onto her face.

Yang holds up three fingers as the White Fang patrolman starts to disappear from view around the bend of the camp’s circular shape. Two fingers. _One_.

They move. The girls jog quietly out of the foliage and cross the short distance into the clearing. Weiss quickly climbs the chain-link fence and drops deftly on the opposite side. Blake wastes no time in following after her, scaling it with an experienced gracefulness. Yang checks the time as Blake hits the ground on the other side. Roughly one minute has passed, so they have one more left before the new patrol will appear to take his spot.

With a quiet grunt, Yang quickly climbs the fence. She tries not to cringe at the light metallic rattle it makes as she ascends up and swings a leg over the edge. She pauses, takes a breath, and drops. She hits the ground hard on the balls of her feet. Yang feels Blake grab her arm to steady her balance as she rights herself. Yang’s skin tingles lightly where her hand is even when Blake releases her grip.

Yang nods towards deeper into the camp. “Let’s go.”

Ozpin’s contacts had been able to tell them that the camp was situated in a circle as well as its location, but little else. Blake, thankfully, had been able to fill in some gaps based on how the majority of camps had been structured while she was a member. Most of them, she’d explained, were organized in layered ring-shaped zones wherein each ring was designated to a particular part of operations. The outer ring, for example, was largely just recruit quarters and barracks. Inside of that was where most of the camp’s day-to-day operations took place: showers, mess tents, medical facilities. Closer to the center was what Blake had termed ‘excursion ops’: armories, transportation, and—when needed—interrogation. And finally, in the dead center of the camp, was a collection of tents with computers and information on anything and everything if you could get access to the network. The information hub. Their target.

The good news about their target being in the center of the camp is that it makes it an easy target to locate, as far as Yang is concerned. The bad news is that the center is the most easily defensible location from the White Fang’s perspective, and that if they got caught there would be no “quick escape”.

The three girls move quickly and purposefully past the first few rows of beige, canvas tents. Once they are out of sight of the fence, they relax their stride. Getting out of sight from the patrol had been important, but now they just needed to blend in and make their way through the camp. Blend in, get the information, get out. Easy.

“Should we split up?” Weiss asks quietly under her breath. “Three of us together might draw more attention.”

Yang considers it for a brief moment before shaking her head. “Not unless we have to. I don’t want to risk someone getting caught or left behind.” Especially not Blake or Weiss.

Weiss nods an acknowledgement and doesn’t argue. Yang can feel more than see Blake looking at her for a long moment. When Yang finally looks back at her, Blake glances away and then reaches up and tugs the bow out of her hair.

Her cat ears twitch ever so slightly against the cool breeze. Yang’s heart skips a beat.

Together, the girls make their way through the camp. Through their ear pieces, Ruby warns them any time a White Fang member is about to cross paths with them. They do their best to look as causal as they can so as to avoid any suspicion, passing rows of tents and exchanging nods with anyone else wearing the mask. Yang wonders how many question her and Weiss’ lack of evident Faunus features. Blake had told them that sometimes a person’s Faunus trait isn’t always obvious, and they are more likely to rationalize it away rather than expect a human to just be walking around in their midst. But still Yang can’t help the tension in her shoulders: the feeling that she was just waiting for them to get recognized or called out, and for everything to go south in a hurry as a result. Call it a gut feeling. She always trusted those.

It didn’t matter. Not really, anyway. They needed that information. Too much was at stake for them to turn back now.

“Hey,” Ruby’s voice in her ear grabs her attention. “A White Fang member headed towards you. Your 9 o’clock.”

Blake discretely moves to be slightly to the left of both Weiss and Yang. Yang knows exactly what she has in mind even before they see the man Ruby was talking about—tall and a little lanky with a striped tail swishing behind him—turn the corner just head of them. He’s looking at a clipboard, but his blue eyes behind his mask flit up and lock squarely on Blake. For a moment, Yang is convinced he recognizes her. Her shoulder tense.

“Hey!” he calls out, glancing back down at his clipboard. He crosses quickly over to the girls but Yang sees the gun holstered on his leg and the fact that he hasn’t reached for it yet gives her hope. Maybe their cover hadn’t been blown yet.

“Sir?” Blake asks, moving to cross over and meet him halfway. Yang recognizes the move for what it is. She wants them to keep going and also is keeping him from getting closer to them. She’s buying them time. But Yang had promised herself that she wouldn’t leave anybody behind. She can feel Weiss looking at her expectantly, and Yang nods for her to go on. They share a glance. _We’ll meet you there._

Blake glances over her shoulder and gives Yang a sharp look when she sees that she doesn’t go with Weiss. Yang doesn’t back down. She’s not leaving Blake to fend for herself, especially since she had the biggest target on her back and most likelihood of recognition. She is at the greatest risk. Yang is not leaving. It is as simple as that.

“We need a few recruits who are willing to go above and beyond for the cause,” he is saying. He stops and gives Yang a funny look. She offers a pleasant smile, hoping to deflect any potential suspicion. He looks back at Blake. “Which rotation are you in, sister?”

“Third,” Blake replies easily. Yang has no idea what he’s talking about and her gratitude for Blake being here briefly overshadows her concern for the girl’s safety.

He looks disappointed. “I’m afraid we are mostly looking for recruits from our second rotation. First and Third already have their assignments. Orders of Adam.” Yang’s blood runs cold at the name. “But I thank you for your time, sister.”

“Of course,” Blake replies. The underlying stiffness in her tone goes unnoticed by the White Fang member, but Yang catches it. She wonders if it’s because of the mention of Adam. She wonders if he’s here.

The White Fang member walks away and Blake crosses back over to Yang, her eyes looking sharper and more alert. “They’re planning something,” she says under her breath as both girls continue walking. Blake is walking a little faster and Yang quickens her pace to match. “We need that information.”

They press on, closer to the center of the camp. They make their way past tents labeled by signs outside noting medical facilities and showers. They’re out of the recruitment quarters zone and into the next one. In a crude arch over one of the pathways they cross are the words _POWER IN FEAR_ scrawled in red. Along one of the posts someone had written _show your claws!_ It sends a chill down Yang’s spine.

“Weiss, what’s your status?” Yang asks under her breath, keying into the comm.

“ _Almost there, I think_.”

“Ruby, keep track of her. Watch her back. Weiss, we’re headed to you.”

 _“Roger that, sis,”_ Ruby says at the same time Weiss replies, “ _Don’t draw attention.”_

They pass a pair of Faunus sparring in a clearing between two tents. A small crowd of them watches as they throw sharp jabs at one another, side-stepping and circling sloppily. There’s nothing choreographed about the battle. Yang doesn’t linger, keeping her pace with Blake, but she notices the reckless abandon with which they seem to fight. Like fighting is all they have left and they throw their entire selves into it with little regard to the personal consequences. It’s aggression fueled by raw hate and spite, and it’s terrifying to watch.

They’re passing the first armory tent—indicating based on the intel that they’re even closer to the center—when all hell breaks loose.

A recruit knocks shoulders with Blake as she passes her. The collision causes Blake’s mask to shift against her face and then clatter to the ground. The girl apologizes, calling Blake ‘sister’ and looking at the mask on the ground before she looks up at who she’d run into. She takes a small, stumbling step backwards.

“You’re… Blake Belladonna….” Yang knows the voice. _What was her name again?_ One of the two that they’d run into in the woods on their way to the cabin. _Ivy_.

Yang’s heart jumps to her throat as several heads turn. Blake’s eyes widen. Before she can speak, Yang is grabbing her mask and shoving it into her chest, taking her hand and running. “Ruby,” she says as they sprint between the tents, keying into her comm as shouts sound up from behind them. “Blake got made by one of the White Fang. We’ve got a problem.”

“ _One distraction coming up_.”

A second later, Yang hears a loud _boom_ and the ground shakes beneath her feet. Smoke billows out into the night sky above a flickering orange glow. Over the tents, Yang can see the edges of flames licking upwards amid the smoke. Yang guesses that her sister just shot an armory tent and happened to set off an explosion. Shouts of alarm echo around them. Blake puts her mask back on.

“We’ve gotta get out of here,” Yang says distractedly, pausing behind a tent to catch her breath.

“Not until we have that information,” Blake says. “If they let that fire spread, it’ll consume the camp. Ruby bought us a little bit of time. Let’s use it.” She’s jogging away from Yang before the blonde can respond.

White Fang members pour out of their tents, drawn out by the explosion. Some shout orders to subordinates who then nearly trip over themselves in rushing to carry them out. Others have their weapons in their hand and are yelling questions over the noise about whether or not they’re under attack. Feet pound against the dirt as they rush to contain the inferno.

It’s mass chaos. Yang just hopes its enough for word of Blake’s appearance to be forgotten, or at least dispelled as mere rumor. But it’s not a hope that she’s relying on.

“Weiss, check in,” she says.

 _“I’m at the center. There’s six tents, three of them have computers. I’m downloading the information now from one of the tents now.”_ She sounds out of breath. “ _That was quite the distraction, Ruby.”_

“ _Too much?”_ Ruby asks sheepishly.

“It was perfect,” Yang interrupts.

Blake chimes in a step or two in front of Yang, her voice echoing delayed in her ear. “Yang and I are almost there. We’ll each take a tent and hope for the best.”

Yang nods, mostly to herself. “Weiss, don’t wait for us. As soon as you’re done, get out of here.”

Weiss doesn’t say anything at first. “ _Copy that.”_

Yang and Blake run. The tents and signs become nondescript as they rush through the White Fang camp, bathed in a flickering glow from the blazing armory tent. It makes the calls for equality through violence and fear that’s scrawled on posts and archways somehow look more sinister. As they get closer to the center, Yang can feel the temperature change from the cool night air to a radiating heat. The air is thicker with smoke. Recruits start to cough as they rush frantically closer to it.

Blake slows down as they reach a clearing, a tighter collection of tents a few yards away. Farther off in the background, Yang can see that the fire has spread to the tent beside it. A part of her wonders if the entire camp will burn to the ground.

“This was no accident!” A voice roars distantly over the commotion. “Someone out there is attacking us. Who will join me in hunting them down?”

 _Ruby_. “Ruby, get out of there,” Yang says suddenly. She follows Blake across the clearing to the small cluster of tents. “They’re coming for you. We got it from here.”

“ _I’m not leaving you guys. Besides, someone’s gotta watch out for Weiss if she’s getting out by herself. Don’t worry about the White Fang, Yang. I’ll see them before they see me.”_

Yang grits her teeth as they approach the tents. She wants to argue with her sister, but she knows that tone. Ruby isn’t going to be persuaded. Her sister could take care of herself, but Yang can’t help but feel a bit more on edge knowing an entire team of trained terrorists were going to take to the woods for the explicit purpose of finding her sister. Above them, Yang sees a black bird take off from its perch on a tent pole and fly out of the camp.

There are a total of six tents in the middle of the clearing at the center of the camp. Yang peeks between the flaps of one. It’s empty save for a black, locked trunk and a cot with black sheets. On the cot lay a long, red sword with a dark gray hilt. No computer. Yang catches Blake’s honey-amber eyes—dark and determined in the very faint glow from the fire—just before she disappears between the canvas flaps of one of the tents. Yang takes a deep breath and steps into the next one.

At the far end of the tent is a computer with four monitors. Beside it, rows of cabinets filled with blinking lights and cables line the tent wall in stacks that reach from the ground to just shy of the tent roof. The cables run in haphazard tangles, weaving around each other. A small number of them have a white tag clipped to it with something scribbled in messy black pen—a label that, without context, means nothing to Yang. She glances over her shoulder, unable to shake the feeling that someone is going to walk in after her any moment.

She shakes the feeling off and crosses the tent, pressing a button on one of the monitors and causing it to flicker to life. She slips her hand into her pocket and pulls out a miniature scroll. When Ozpin had handed it to her, it had surprised her. It seemed like such a small and simple tool for such an important task. Yang shoves it into the port on the side of the computer and glances over her shoulder again.

Someone shouts outside. Yang tears her gaze back to her computer. _Gotta hurry_ , she reminds herself.

Her lilac eyes flicker quickly over the screen as she pulls up the decryption and hacking software from the small, secured storage scroll. In a small window on the screen, a wall of text scrolls quickly. Yang can feel her heartbeat in her throat. Sweat condenses on her forehead and she wonders if it’s because the fire has spread even more or if its nerves.

Yang starts transferring files, barely glancing at their title as they download into the drive. She clicks through files, schematics, documents. She doesn’t worry yet about trying to make sense of it. Any information she can get her hands on as fast as she can. They’ll sort it out later, at least according to Ozpin and Taiyang. So Yang looks at the numbers and letters and words on the screen without really seeing them as she gathers as much information as she possibly can.

Until a series of numbers catches her attention. Eight numbers. A date. One that was permanently branded into Yang’s memory with pain and grief.

 _It’s a coincidence_ , Yang tries to tell herself, her stomach squirming against the reasoning. Before she’s even fully aware of what she’s doing, Yang clicks on the file to open it. Her heart jumps to her throat, hard and painful. Yang’s breath comes a little quicker. A little more shallow.

Atlas. Fifteen years ago. The file has everything. The schematic for the building. The receipts for the chemicals used in the bomb construction. A list of names: who was involved at every step of the process from initial planning all the way through detonation. Her own words that she’d told Blake over a week ago echo in her head. _Mom was in Atlas facilitating a cross-kingdom adoption when it went off. The bomb was in the next building over, but the blast brought both down._ The White Fang was responsible? They’d never claimed responsibility, but here it was in front of her. The evidence was damning. _Summer._

_Mom._

…

**A/N: Please, please let me know what you think. It means way more than you even know. It’s been a rough few days so my sincerest apologies if it falls below expectations. And to reiterate from earlier, take care of yourselves and one another. You are wonderful and you matter.**


	32. Not a Chapter: Announcement and Apology

It’s with all kinds of mixed feelings that I make this post. I know it was not long ago that I was stating with absolute certainty that I was not ready to let go of this fic. But the past few months have been quite a mix of emotions and personal developments. Finishing Unraveled has begun to feel more like a chore to me than something I look forward to working on, and I think it was beginning to show every time I tried to get back into it.

And I think for my own mental and emotional well-being—for similar reasons that I took this hiatus in the first place—I need to just step away from the fic completely. I need to relieve myself of the pressure to finish this fic. I need to allow myself to move on. 

If you’re angry with me, I understand. Trust me, I understand. A part of me is upset with myself even though I feel like this is the best decision for me right now. If you read and loved and supported Unraveled, you have my absolutely deepest appreciation and gratitude. I loved all of your reactions and messages and questions more than I can possibly express to you. And I am so deeply sorry for anyone for whom this news is upsetting. But I don’t want to keep you all in limbo waiting for a chapter that is unlikely at this point to ever come. 

However, I do feel that I owe you guys more than simply cutting this fic completely off at the knees and leaving you all in the dark. I did have this fic planned to the end. So I’m going to open the floor here for an “Ask Me Anything” about Unraveled, and I will do my best to answer them. And if you’d rather just be kept in the dark and let your imagination fill in the rest? I understand. I say go for it. But for those of you who may sincerely want to know the ending and answers I had originally planned, I am happy to answer them as best I can. 

This fic was a deeply loved project for so long. It is my longest fic so far, and one I’ve spent the longest amount of time on. And again, I am so sorry that this is where it ends. It is not because of you, dear readers. In fact, it is you that kept me wanting to hold on to this project for so long.  
I love you all.

-Flagbearer-or-scouts


End file.
